Rodeo Outfits For Women

To preface this story, I spent the greater part of my childhood in-between the Catholic church and a Methodist church. Doing my duty in Catholic Sunday school, doing the summer camps at the Methodist church, community service, and all the normal small-town Texas religious activities. I had been taught by my mother that there is a God, an afterlife, and don’t sin because it’s bad and Hell is hot. I had a healthy fear of God and eternal damnation if I didn’t do and say the right things. All of the normal boxes and topics. But my father was not so convinced. My Dad is not a religious man really. Not that he detests it; it just wasn’t important enough to him to investigate it. His side of the family has always told us stories from when I was a kid about how I would “predict the future” and how my sister would talk to people that weren’t there. Both of my siblings and I have been visited on the night a family member died, where they told us they had passed and it was going to be okay. All this to say I have had experiences I can’t explain, and have toiled with the question of “How do I make sense what I have seen if I don’t believe in a God or don’t believe there is life after death?” I still don’t have an answer and I’m almost 30. The story I’m going to tell you about is real. I wish I was creative enough to make this up, but I'm not that good of a writer. Some POVs are from my experience, other employees, and some from others who visited the property before I knew them. I have told this story many times, and each time I feel like I remember something more. After high school, I commuted back and forth to a university about an hour away. It was there that I met my ex-boyfriend. We were 18, in love and when it came to the end of our freshman year, we both decided to transfer to the same college in North Central Texas. This town was even smaller than my hometown and much more rural. Not long into our sophomore year, we met some friends who all lived on a ranch north of town. We all had horses, loved the same things and would spend almost every day together. My boyfriend and I ended up working on this ranch for almost our entire relationship. This ranch is 100 acres, with the back 20 heavily wooded. There were always about 40 horses there, and back then there was a very small group of people who came in and out. It is located off one of the main highways leading out of town and bordered by cattle ranches. The girl who owns it would always tell us about a little girl she would see in the windows or walking down the halls. Two of the residents told me separate stories of someone calling their name while they were sleeping but nobody was home. I didn’t think much of it. Cliche ghost stories everyone has. An old lady, a little kid. Whatever. Towards the end of our almost 4 years together, my ex was in an accident on the ranch where he tore is ACL. He was so dedicated to work, or so I thought, that he slept on the couch in the main house for quite some time after his surgery. One night I found messages on his phone that revealed he was sleeping with other women, one who lived on the property. When confronted, he went into normal excuses and backtracking, but eventually told me about the "shadowman" that lived in his room upstairs. He went on to tell me that this creature was about seven feet tall and would slink down the stairs and sit on the third step from the bottom. It would whisper to him from there night after night for weeks. Telling him how awful he was, that he should repent for his lies, and how he knew the gun was upstairs in his closet and that he should use it on himself. I was so flustered at the time I didn’t take him seriously and honestly forgot about it until later. We eventually broke up; he left to move back to East Texas, and I stayed in town but worked somewhere else by then. The whole situation was nasty, and we all ended on bad terms. I moved my horses and didn’t visit the property for some time but stayed in contact with the girl who owns the property. It was about 3 months after everything happened when I got the phone call from the owner, let’s call her Taylor, at 11:15 pm on a Thursday night. I’m out at the bar in town, being DD for my friends, and I pick up the phone to her frantic breathing and crying. She whispers, “He’s here. I heard his footsteps walking down the barn isle, and when I was in the feed room it stopped outside and asked me if I “need help with anything?” and I know it isn’t him. It can’t be. But it’s his voice. I shut the door and locked it, but I don’t know what to do.” I didn’t need an explanation. My ex-boyfriend had a very distinct footfall and always wore heavy steel toed boots. You could hear him before you saw him, even on dirt or grass. He also had one of the deepest voices I have ever heard, so didn’t need clarification to put the pieces together. It would have taken me 30 minutes to drive out there, and her top hand lived closer, so I told her to call him and have him get to her before I did. As I was getting ready to head that way, Taylor called me back and said her employee was there. He scoped the property and found that nothing was out of the ordinary. I didn’t end up going out there that night and admittedly I was scared and didn’t want to. I took to the internet, looking up anything that could explain what happened. With what I found, and based on our location, I suspected it was a shape-changing spirit but didn’t want to accept it. Three months later, it showed itself again. This time it was a normal Texas summer night and Taylor, the owner, was out of town and only had one man working on the property. He was new to the job, maybe a month or so in, and had no previous experience with myself or my ex. (It is important to note here that I did not post pictures or videos of my ex and I together on social media EVER at his request). Taylor calls me around 10:30 pm and tells me this story quickly before she forgets the details. She goes on to say she just got a phone call from the man working for her, and how he left the property and refuses to come back until it’s light outside. He tells her that he was in the back pastures, the ones closest to the woods, and he was filling water troughs. The two troughs are about 50 feet from each other across a long middle alleyway, each next to swinging gates that lead into the separate pastures. There were no horses in either at the time; they had planned to move horses the following day, and he wanted to have the water fresh and ready to go. It was his last chore of the night, and it was late, so he had pulled his truck up enough so that the headlights could illuminate both water troughs at the same time. He says the wind picked up slightly, and he heard rustling in the grass to his left in the pasture across the alley. He looked over and saw a tall, human shaped shadow walk across the headlights, stop at the gate, hang its arms over the top rail and it ask him, “Hey there, need any help?”. He dropped the running water hose, hopped the fence to stay as far away as possible and drove the truck backwards down the alley and left the property. I told her as soon as she is back in town, I am coming out there to talk to this man. So just a few days later I did just that. I didn’t bring it up until I was about to leave. I simply said, “So Taylor said you had a bit of an experience the other night.” He immediately tensed up and said quickly that he wasn’t interested in talking about it. I said that was fine, but I wanted him to listen to something really quick, and without hesitation I pressed play on the video I had pulled up of my ex-boyfriend talking to me while we were in the car. He shouted at me to turn it off and told me that is the voice he heard the other night and who the fuck was that. So, I explained very briefly and left shortly after. I know it was awful of me to do, but selfishly I had to know if whatever this was sticking to one person. I spent some time thinking and concluded that whatever this thing was had absorbed so much negative energy and emotions from my ex that it had more than enough to use for itself. The creature was relatively quiet after this for a long time. Taylor had originally been terrified of whatever this was and wanted nothing to do with it. She would text me once or twice a week and tell me she heard footsteps in and out of the house when nobody was there, she would see a light bobbing up and down in the pastures late at night like someone was walking around checking fences, and once she told me she went to let her dogs out that evening and looked out the door to see a coyote staring at her from across the fence. Unmoving, unblinking and unafraid of her or her dogs. But as the months went on, she seemed to change her mind. She said that whatever it seems to bring her comfort now. And now that she lived alone, it was nice to think about having something else there other than her and the little girl she saw occasionally. About a year goes by before it acts out again, but this time it wasn’t physical. Taylor called me one afternoon, and it seemed like a normal conversation. Before we hung up, she told me she had a weird dream the night before. In her dream she said she was lying in bed upstairs, reading a book when one of her employees, let's call him Colton, called her name from the kitchen. Her dogs excitedly rush down the stairs in front of her, but when she goes to walk down the stairs, all three are frozen on the bottom three steps. As she walks closer, they begin to growl, hackles raising. She admitted that she thought it was a weird reaction, seeing as her dogs loved Colton and that he was always nice to them. As she lowers herself onto the last step, she turns to see an empty room, except for my ex-boyfriend sitting in a chair facing the stairs. She asked him why he was here and where Colton was. He laughed and replied, “Had I used my real voice, you wouldn’t have let me in or come to see me, right? I am so happy to see you.” She said she turned around ran back to her room and as soon as she sat on her bed she woke up. She seemed to not take the dream very seriously, but I was scared for her. I don’t care what anyone says, dreams are powerful and that whole situation made me extremely uneasy. The creature was quiet again after the dream but kept up the small shenanigans. Halloween rolls around, and I’m with a bunch of new friends at a party, and we’re swapping ghost stories as one does per the occasion. It comes around to my turn, and I tell this story. One of the girls, Madison, grows paler as I talk and when I’m done, she said she had something to add to my story. It’s important to mention this group of friends doesn’t know Taylor personally, only by name since I would occasionally mention her in passing. They also didn’t know me when I worked at the ranch, and they also didn’t know my ex. And once again, I didn’t post anything about my relationship online so there was no way for them to know what my ex looked or sounded like. Madison tells me that about a year ago, her and her boyfriend went out to Taylor’s place to ride their horses with some friends. She said they pulled to the gate, and while they were waiting for the code, she happened to look down into the creek bed below. She said there was a man there, dressed in a plain grey Hanes t-shirt and red basketball shorts and he wasn't wearing shoes. He had longer blonde hair, and was sitting criss cross on the dirt, looking into the water, unmoving. She asked him if he was okay, and she said he responded “You shouldn’t be here. Bad things happen to people that come here.” She looked over to her boyfriend to get his attention, but when she looked back, he was gone. When she described what the man looked like, my body went cold and I immediately felt sick. Like poop my pants right then and there sick. Everyone was quiet and I did the same thing I did with Taylor’s employee all those months ago. Wordlessly, I pulled out my phone and found that same video and played it for her, his voice sparking the same reaction in her that it did with other man. She confirmed that it was the same voice. I then told her the outfit that thing was wearing was the same thing my ex would wear to bed. I could see him walking around the house in it like it was yesterday. I quickly gathered myself and went home. Now the following is me being incredibly stupid, and I see this now but at the time I thought it was a good idea for whatever reason. I took Taylor to dinner one night not long after Halloween, with the plan of after I dropped her off, I would confront this thing. I dropped her off at her house and began my drive back to the road. I stopped far enough back from the front gate that I could see it and the side of the creek. I kept my Jeep running, walked outside, and sat on the hood. I called out to this thing, “Alright, I know you’re here. Everyone tells me they see you, and they hear you. You walk around and do whatever you want. Well, here I am. The one person who you can’t fool. So, what are we going to do about it.” I sat there for 30 minutes in the dark. Waiting and watching. There was no wind, the air was stale. Nothing happened, not even the horses were moving around. Oh, to be young again. I was so lucky and stupid. Once again, I got a phone call from Taylor a few months after my late-night mission. I know, it's repetitive but bear with me. She tells me that the previous night she was out doing night checks on the horses and saw a medium sized dog noticeably limping around by one of the barns. Now it’s the country so a random dog here and there isn’t abnormal. When she called out to it, it froze and stared at her. As she walked closer, it didn’t move until she got about 10 feet away and took off. Not limping or favoring anything, it ran under a row of trailers parked against the wall of the barn. The walls are stark white, and with the flood lights, you can see everything around them. There was no way the dog could have run out from under the trailers without her seeing, but when she bent down to look for it, there was nothing. Not even paw prints where it had slid under. She then tells me that one of the boarders at the facility had told her she saw three giant shadows against the same wall the night before. Like 8- or 9-foot-tall human shaped shadows that didn't move whether you moved closer or father away. The boarder told her she would be paying for someone to feed her horses at night now because she was so scared. She told me this in a tone that was so nonchalant I couldn’t believe it. But I could, because she wanted this thing to stick around. A few weeks after this, I got a text from Taylor that says “We had a boarder horse die last night. I can’t understand why or how it happened, but it's really bad looking.” I am an Equine Veterinary Technician, so this piqued my interest. I asked her to send me a picture. This horse was older, maybe 24 years old. He had traveled the country as a high school rodeo horse, been in parades, and had guns shot off of him for competition. A real been there done that kind of horse. He was on his side, legs straight out like he was mid run. From this horse’s throat latch, down his neck into his chest was a giant, gaping wound. It looked like something took their hands and ripped straight down. It was a bloody mess. They said they found hair on a fence post and assumed he tried to jump but didn’t make it. My question was, what on earth could have spooked this horse so bad that he tried to run and jump over a fence to get away? This horse has seen and done everything. Now horses are prey animals, I know this. And anything can scare them, but I didn’t believe something normal scared him. But I wasn’t there, and I had nothing to prove otherwise. The situation was awful and my speculation wouldn’t have done any good, so I let it go. A few months later I found myself at dinner with Taylor and one of our mutual friends. We laughed and had a great time, until Taylor bought up this whole situation. Our friend listened uncomfortably while Taylor laughed and told her all about the weird shit that has happened over the years. I tried to interject to let it be known I think it is weird and scary and I wanted no part in it. This friend had recently been working with an animal communicator who is the real deal. I had heard stories and seen her work. While we were chatting, she had texted her and sent her the picture, telling her about this horse that had died and wanted to know her thoughts and to see what she could find. Our dinner concluded and we paid and went our separate ways. I was about a 10-minute drive back to my house from the restaurant. I started my truck and pulled out of the parking lot. About a minute later, the right side of my face went completely numb, and almost immediately I got one of the worst headaches I have yet to experience in my life. I am almost crying in agony and can hardly see out of my right eye as I pull into my driveway. I shut the truck off and as I go to open the door my phone rings, and I look to see the friend we just had dinner with calling. I answer and before I can talk, she says, “I know your head really hurts, and you can’t see out of your right eye. She told me. She knows what happened to that horse. Whatever is on that property is furious that she knows about it, and it’s coming after you. It wants you. This isn’t good. Come to my house, I’ll be waiting and I will try and help you.” At this point, I’m scared out of my right mind. I don’t know what to do other than go inside and try and find some medicine. My roommate at the time was religious. One of the rare few not rub it in your face kind of people. As soon as my hand touched the doorknob, my head stopped hurting. It was like I was completely fine and that never happened. I credit that to my roommate honestly. She is devout, and I’m sure it has some influence on the vibes of our house. I don’t really have another explanation, so I went with that. We’re still roommates today. I ended up going over to my friend house that night, where she explained to me that the horse that passed away had told the communicator that something terrifying and dark had scared him. That he felt like he couldn’t get away. I knew it was whatever lives out there. She told me that the creature wants me and my soul. That’s why it took the shape and sound of my ex. It figured it could get what it wants that way. And now that’s it’s been seen by someone who knows what it is; it is unmeasurably angry. We went over ways to protect myself, and I was told “I don’t care what you believe in or don’t. This is a demon, and it’s real. So, find something you do believe in or find something to protect you and work on it every day.” And so, I did. I think. It has been some time since whatever lives out there has done anything of note. Taylor still texts me weekly about little things that happen. Like yesterday, for example, she texted me and told me she heard someone downstairs with her, but nobody was there. Maybe the protection rituals worked, and it chose someone else. Maybe the runes I got tattooed were the right choice? Maybe Taylor’s acceptance is feeding it all it needs? I don’t know. I’m still not sure what I believe. If you ask me what happens when you die, I’ll still say “Nothing” even if what I have seen tells me otherwise. The great mystery of life goes unanswered for now. If anything new happens, I’ll make sure to update this thread but for my sake I hope that chapter stays closed and far away from me. submitted by /u/KyboriaChronicles to r/horrorstories [link] [comments]

Hello r/Dallas, Here is another list of events, this time for the last day of April and the first part of May. I'll update it a little later this month. These events are hosted at the following site with more upcoming events listed for your reference: https://dfw.msondo.com/. If you would like to receive an email with a list of events happening in DFW, please click here. Please also reach out here via a comment if you have an event you would like to list here. I'm happy to help feature events hosted by active members of the sub Concerts Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/30 Ole 60 Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:15 PM Country-rock fusion with southern charm. 04/30 Joe Russo's Almost Dead House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM Energetic rock concert with improvisational jams. 04/30 Kate Clover, Jenny Don't & The Spurs Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Garage punk meets alt-country for high-energy rock. 04/30 Electric Campfire Jam Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Intimate music gathering for all skill levels. 04/30 Forever K-Pop Texas Trust CU Theatre at Grand Prairie Grand Prairie 7:00 PM South Korean K-pop artists perform together live. 04/30 - 05/21 FREE SHOW - Playtown Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Rock guitarist plays energetic evening set. 05/01 Nightly Live in Dallas The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Atmospheric synth-pop with catchy hooks from a Canadian artist. 05/01 Cory Wong - Lost in the Wonder House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:30 PM Guitar virtuoso blends funk, jazz, and rock. 05/01 Sneaker Ball Showcase Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Urban music celebration featuring hip-hop and R&B performances. 05/01 Panoptikon Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 9:00 PM Industrial disco with high-energy electronic beats. 05/01 - 05/03 Spring Fling Vintage Dance Festival Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Weekend celebration with jazz, workshops, and movement. 05/01 Kid Rock with Brantley Gilbert & Them Dirty Roses Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 7:00 PM Outdoor concert fuses rock, country, hip-hop styles. 05/01 Four Tet SILO Dallas 9:00 PM UK artist brings hypnotic electronica to life. 05/01 Carlos Vives Texas Trust CU Theatre at Grand Prairie Grand Prairie 8:00 PM Colombian singer-composer performs lively Latin & vallenato music. 05/01 - 05/02 Martin Garrix Americas Tour The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Energetic Dutch DJ drops massive electronic beats. 05/01 Lowland Revelry w/ Special Guest Taylor Wayne Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 7:00 PM Southern rock legend from Texas performs live. 05/01 Cradle of Filth: Majestic In Death Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 7:00 PM British extreme metal artist brings darkness and drama. 05/02 The Maine Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 6:30 PM Alternative rock and pop-punk with energetic beats. 05/02 Avery Lynch, Julia Campbell, Faith Alexa Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Indie pop concert featuring rising vocalists. 05/02 Tyler Rich and James Barker Band Puzzles Deep Ellum Dallas 7:00 PM Country musician performs with Canadian opening act. 05/02 KID CUDI PRESENTS: THE REBEL RAGERS TOUR 2026 Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 6:30 PM Atmospheric beats meet thoughtful rhymes by US artist. 05/02 STMPD RCRDS SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Dutch label presents electronic dance music showcase. 05/02 Leroy Cravatt at Growl Records Growl Records Arlington 7:00 PM Local record store hosts intimate blues performance. 05/02 Jordan Nix w/ Special Guest Colton Lane Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Texas-born country star performs live concert. 05/02 The King of Pop Is Coming to Bolder Bolder Adventure Park at EpicCentral Grand Prairie - Electric tribute show honors classic pop anthems. 05/03 RAYE: THIS TOUR MAY CONTAIN NEW MUSIC South Side Ballroom Dallas 8:00 PM UK singer-songwriter performs pop & R&B hits. 05/03 The Toasters Live Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Legendary ska/punk pioneers perform with talented openers. 05/04 HEALTH & Carpenter Brut The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM French industrial rock with pulsing electronica. 05/04 Black Veil Brides: North American Tour 2026 House of Blues Dallas Dallas 5:30 PM Heavy riffs and drama-filled high-energy show. 05/05 Blessd - El Mejor Hombre Del Mundo Tour The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Colombian reggaeton star ignites infectious dance party. 05/05 - 05/19 Songwriter Night Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Local singer-songwriters perform intimate acoustic sets. 05/06 Dance Gavin Dance with Special Guests South Side Ballroom Dallas 8:00 PM High-energy rock with complex guitar and vocals. 05/06 Mike Doughty The Kessler Dallas 8:00 PM Alternative rock singer-songwriter with unique vocals performs. 05/06 Cliburn Sessions: Tessa Lark + Misha Namirovsky Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Violinist and pianist perform chamber music concert. 05/07 Crazy Train - The Ozzy Experience House of Blues Dallas Dallas 6:30 PM Legendary British frontman's iconic music celebrated. 05/07 Flux Pavilion SILO Dallas 9:00 PM High-energy UK-based act drops heavy bass beats. 05/07 Florence + The Machine: Everybody Scream Tour Dickies Arena Fort Worth 7:30 PM UK-based indie rockers launch highly anticipated stadium tour. 05/08 Chris Mitchell House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM Saxophonist from Houston plays smooth jazz concert. 05/08 - 05/09 Romeo Santos & Prince Royce American Airlines Center Dallas 8:00 PM Iconic duo performs upbeat Latin pop concert. 05/08 BigXthaPlug Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 8:00 PM Rising Dallas rapper brings heavy basslines. 05/08 Bonnie X Clyde SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Vocal bass and house DJ from UK performs. 05/08 BANDA TORO Rodeo West Dallas Dallas 8:00 PM Lively regional Mexican music with brass instruments. 05/08 The Queens! 4 Legends, 1 Stage Dickies Arena Fort Worth 7:00 PM R&B legends perform timeless hits together. 05/08 Gatlin Johnson with special guest Parker Morrow Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Texan singer-songwriter performs energetic country tunes. 05/08 Rich O'Toole in Fort Worth Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Southern rock with heartfelt country storytelling. 05/09 Mika Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM Vibrant UK-Lebanese pop concert with soaring vocals. 05/09 Steven Leftovers Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Indie musician plays relaxed, melodic concert. 05/09 Dave Matthews Band Live Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 7:30 PM Rock legend from South Africa performs. 05/09 Slander SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Electronic dubstep with emotive builds and drops. 05/09 The Droptines The Kessler Dallas 8:00 PM Country-rock legends from Concan, Texas perform. 05/09 Sublime's Me Gusta Festival Panther Island Pavilion Fort Worth - Legendary musicians, ska-reggae jams, craft brews. 05/09 Miles Minnick Live The Rail Club Fort Worth 7:00 PM Uplifting Christian hip-hop & rap performance. 05/09 Legacy 4 Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Sultry R&B singer performs soulful tunes. 05/09 Dreamer Management Showcase Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 3:00 PM Southern singer-songwriters perform heartfelt country tales. 05/10 smokedope2016 - The Comedown Tour House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM Raw hip-hop with heavy beats by a Texan. 05/10 Sting The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM British music legend performs iconic hits live. 05/11 Defeated Sanity, Inferi, Vulvodynia, Organectomy Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas 7:00 PM Heavy metal showcase featuring German, SA & NZ acts. 05/13 Nettspend Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM Underground hip-hop with smooth flows and beats. 05/13 Feid (Ferxxo) House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM Colombian artist brings Latin rhythms to life. 05/13 moe. The Kessler Dallas 7:30 PM Rock-jam fusion with elaborate instrumental improvisations. 05/13 Hannah Owens Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Country legend shares soulful harmonies. 05/14 Tech N9ne & E-40 The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM Legendary rappers from California perform rapid-fire sets. 05/14 Midnight Tyrannosaurus SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Heavy dubstep performance with intense bass drops. 05/15 Yves Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 7:30 PM Smooth vocals meet modern electronic beats. 05/15 Xochitl's 10th Annual "Black Celebration" Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 9:00 PM Darkwave and electronic music celebration with DJ set. 05/15 Chris Stussy SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Netherlands-born DJ brings infectious house beats. 05/15 Jensen McRae The Kessler Dallas 8:00 PM Soulful singer-songwriter from California performs acoustic set. 05/15 Morgan Jay Texas Trust CU Theatre at Grand Prairie Grand Prairie 8:00 PM Comedian-musician blends laughs and folk tunes. 05/15 Reed Brothers Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Texas natives deliver live country tunes. 05/16 Juvenile House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM Southern rap legends perform energetic classics and bounce beats. 05/16 Diljit Dosanjh American Airlines Center Dallas 8:00 PM Indian superstar musician performs traditional tunes. 05/16 The New Pornographers The Kessler Dallas 8:00 PM Canadian quintet delivers harmony-rich indie-rock show. 05/16 Jacob Furr Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 7:00 PM Texas-born folk musician performs intimate show. 05/16 Red Not Chili Peppers Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Classic funk-rock hits performed with energetic enthusiasm. 05/17 Undeath in Dallas The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Heavy riffs, guttural vocals, high-energy chaos. 05/17 Lyfe Jennings Live House of Blues Dallas Dallas 5:00 PM Sultry R&B singer from New Orleans performs. 05/17 Gary Gulman The Kessler Dallas 8:00 PM Comedian shares laugh-out-loud observations and stories. 05/17 Steve Forbert The Post at River East Fort Worth 6:00 PM Veteran singer-songwriter performs folk-rock for enthusiastic crowd. 05/17 Crow and Gazelle Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 7:00 PM Indie folk musician from Nashville plays live. 05/17 Mike McClure Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 7:00 PM Texas native plays country and Americana tunes. 05/18 Behemoth Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas TBD Polish artist delivers brutal, theatrical metal performance. 05/19 Eric Johnson: Texaphonic Tour 2026 Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Legendary guitarist from Austin delivers virtuosic performance. 05/20 Elmiene House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM British singer serenades with smooth R&B sounds. 05/20 Swingin' At The Sons Presents: Dimestorehoods LIVE Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Vintage dance night with Dallas jazz band. 05/20 Triumph The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Canadian band rocks with classic hard rock. 05/20 Steve Poltz The Post at River East Fort Worth 8:00 PM Singer-songwriter from Nashville performs intimate folk show. 05/20 FREE SHOW - Big Mike's 3rd Wednesday Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Classic rock hits pay homage in concert. 05/21 Live Music: COLAB Will Call Bar Dallas 9:00 PM Dallas-based rapper performs live, unscripted hip-hop. 05/21 Marc-Alan Prince at Growl Records Growl Records Arlington 7:00 PM Heavy metal performance with intense guitar riffs. 05/22 Chris Isaak House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM Classic rock concert with smooth vocals. 05/22 Demi Lovato: It's Not That Deep Tour American Airlines Center Dallas 8:00 PM Dallas-based singer brings high-energy pop/rock to stage. 05/22 Pitbull & Lil Jon Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 6:00 PM High-energy dance party with legendary Latin hits. 05/22 Disco Dom SILO Dallas 9:00 PM French DJ spins disco-infused electronic beats. 05/22 Chloe Kimes The Post at River East Fort Worth 8:00 PM Rising singer-songwriter plays folk-country tunes from Tennessee. 05/22 Sammy Kershaw Live Tannahill's Music Hall & Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Legendary country singer from Tennessee performs. 05/23 Vana Live The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 7:00 PM Intense, emotional indie-rock with dark lyrics and flair. 05/23 In Real Life Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas 7:00 PM Upbeat dance party with catchy harmonies. 05/23 Pitbull - I'm Back with special guest Lil Jon Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 8:00 PM Energetic performance of international pop-reggae-hip hop music. 05/23 Laura Pausini Texas Trust CU Theatre at Grand Prairie Grand Prairie 8:00 PM Italian singer-songwriter performs lively Latin pop concert. 05/23 Apocalyptica The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Epic symphonic metal fusion by Finnish-Mongolian artists. 05/23 The Troumatics w/ special guest Mandy Hand Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Rocker from California performs energetic concert. 05/24 Echo and The Bunnymen House of Blues Dallas Dallas 7:00 PM UK-based post-punk outfit plays atmospheric rock. 05/24 MGK: Lost Americana Tour Dos Equis Pavilion Dallas 7:00 PM Rock and hip-hop fusion concert tour. 05/24 Steve Aoki - SILO - Memorial Day Weekend SILO Dallas Dallas 9:00 PM DJ spins energetic beats on holiday weekend. 05/24 BRYNDIS X SIEMPRE, MANDINGO & MAS Far West Dallas 8:00 PM Romantic cumbias and Mexican tunes by Mexicans. Theater Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/03 - 05/16 The Legend of DeadEye Mary Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton 8:00 PM Whimsical romp with heroes and villainous foes. 04/23 - 05/16 RENT Circle Theatre Fort Worth 7:30 PM Rock musical explores 1980s NYC struggles. 04/24 - 05/03 Roald Dahl's Matilda The Musical JR. Newlook Performing Arts Center Grapevine Varies Little girl from France seeks superhero dreams. 04/30 - 05/02 Finding Nemo Jr. Bright Lights Theatre Dallas 6:30 PM Young clownfish embarks on oceanic adventure with dad. 04/30 - 05/24 Saturn Return Undermain Theatre Dallas Not specified Former theater kids reunite for friend's funeral. 05/01 - 05/12 Wack 2 the Future! Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton 8:00 PM Time-travel comedy spoofs classic film, brings laughs. 05/01 - 05/02 Troyanns Take New York - Spring Show 2026 Newman Smith Theatre Carrollton 7:00 PM High school students perform in spring stage show. 05/01 - 05/17 Sylvia Black Box Theater at Frisco Discovery Center Frisco 8:00 PM / 2:30 PM Man's stray dog sparks marital jealousy 05/01 - 05/03 Annie Campus Theatre Denton 7:00 PM / 2:00 PM Orphan's heartwarming tale charms 1930s NYC. 05/04 All-Abilities Showcase Casa Mañana Theatre Fort Worth 5:00 PM Local youth showcase acting and music skills. 05/04 Spring Spotlight Showcase Casa Mañana Theatre Fort Worth 7:30 PM Spring showcase of student actors' skills. 05/05 Goofs & Goblins: Star Wars Edition: Revenge of the Fifth Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton 8:00 PM Sci-fi comedy show celebrates geeky fan favorite. 05/05 First Tuesdays at Stage West Stage West Theatre Fort Worth 6:00 PM Local performers share their work and discuss. 05/08 - 05/09 Last Night of the Myrtle Street Night Flyers Rose Marine Theater Fort Worth TBD Youth actors bring mystical drama to life. 05/12 - 05/17 100 Years of Sammy Davis Jr. Casa Mañana Theatre Fort Worth 7:30 PM Elegant evening honors American music legend's legacy. 05/13 - 05/30 IMMOVABLE BEAST Ochre House Theater Dallas 8:15 PM Satire mocks corrupt oligarch's rise to power. 05/14 - 05/31 Sister Act The Firehouse Theatre Farmers Branch Varies Uplifting show with harmonious, funny, and soulful vibes. 05/15 - 05/24 Los Niños Santos de Maria Sabina Teatro Dallas Dallas Not specified Oaxacan healer's life story told on stage. 05/16 Bailes de Primavera Rose Marine Theater Fort Worth 7:00 PM Vibrant Mexican dance and music spectacle. 05/19 - 05/31 Always... Patsy Cline The Addison Performing Arts Centre Addison Varies Country legend's life honored through music. 05/22 - 06/20 Home, I'm Darling Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton 8:00 PM Couple adopts 1950s lifestyle for nostalgic escape. 05/22 - 05/31 The Importance of Being Earnest Campus Theatre Denton 7:30 PM / 2:00 PM Witty comedy of love, identity, and class. 05/24 - 06/07 Totally Made Up Musical Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton Various times Improvisational show featuring on-the-spot songwriting and acting. Comedy Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/28 Comedians Against Humanity: A comedy show for horrible people Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 8:00 PM Dark humor comedy night featuring edgy performer. 04/28 Mic Drop's 'Texas Funny 2026' - Prelims Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Local comedians compete for cash prize. 04/29 - 05/20 Weekly Open Mic Night TK’s Comedy Club Dallas 8:00 PM Comedians debut new jokes in an intimate setting. 04/29 Masood Boomgaard Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:30 PM South African comedian shares humor on modern life. 04/29 Trixx Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Comedian brings laughter with jokes and improv. 04/30 Shark's Comedy Club Thursday Night Shark's Comedy Club Dallas 9:30 PM Weekly comedy showcase with local comedians. 04/30 - 05/21 Backdoor Comedy Open Mic Backdoor Comedy Club Richardson 8:00 PM Emerging comedians debut new jokes each week. 04/30 The Unteachables Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Comedian from [location] brings laughs to the stage. 05/01 Shark's Comedy Club Friday Night Comedy Show Shark's Comedy Club Dallas 8:00 PM 05/01 Dusty Slay: The Neighborhood Guy Tour Majestic Theatre Dallas 7:00 PM Comedian brings witty humor and relatable insights. 05/01 Big Dang Friday featuring One Shared Brain Cell & New News News Crew Stomping Ground Comedy Theater & Training Center Dallas 7:30 PM Friday improv show with a new team. 05/01 - 05/22 Backdoor Comedy Friday Night Stand-Up Showcase Backdoor Comedy Club Richardson 8:30 PM Comedians with TV credits and locals perform. 05/01 After Hours: Down & Funny [Late Friday Edition] Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 8:30 PM Late-night comedy with dirty humor and drinks. 05/01 - 05/02 Jiaoying Summers: Lucky Pony 26 Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:00 PM Internet comedian brings sharp humor to the stage. 05/01 Peter Antoniou Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:00 PM British mentalist performs stand-up & mind-reading. 05/01 Y'all Ain't Right: A Wild Night of Unfiltered Comedy [Friday Edition] Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 6:30 PM Raucous comedy night with bold, unfiltered humor. 05/02 - 05/23 Backdoor Comedy Saturday Night Stand-Up Showcase Backdoor Comedy Club Richardson 8:00 PM Weekend comedy showcase with local pros & guests. 05/02 - 05/23 Clean Improv Comedy Show ZingerZ Comedy Club at ONSTAGE In Bedford Bedford 7:30 PM Family-friendly improv comedy with audience participation. 05/02 Comedy Allstars Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:30 PM Laughter abounds with comedians from around the world. 05/02 D'lai Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:00 PM Acclaimed comedian's stand-up show brings humor. 05/02 - 05/03 Summer Comedy Camp Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 9:00 AM Youth comedy workshop for 8-15 year olds. 05/02 Uncensored & Unhinged: Fort Worth's Boldest Stand-Up Comedy Show [Late Saturday Edition] Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 9:00 PM Lively comedy night with bold, uncensored performances. 05/02 Wizop Comedy: Live In Fort Worth Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 7:00 PM Comedian brings high-energy humor and sharp wit. 05/07 Chelcie Lynn: Trailer Trash Tammy the Loose Lips Tour Majestic Theatre Dallas 7:00 PM Comedian's iconic character brings laughter and joy. 05/07 Nicole Burch (as Nurse Rachel) Live In Fort Worth Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 7:00 PM Comedian's sharp wit skewers healthcare and life. 05/07 Rick Glassman Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:30 PM Podcaster's deadpan humor and crowd interaction. 05/08 Brad Williams: Tall Tales Tour 2026 Majestic Theatre Dallas 6:30 PM Comedic mastermind from New York brings laughter. 05/08 David C. Smalley: Live In Fort Worth [Friday Show] Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 6:30 PM Podcast host's sharp humor brings laughter. 05/08 Mike Cannon at Big Laugh Comedy Club Forth Worth(Funky Room) Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth Fort Worth 8:00 PM Intimate comedy set by American comedian. 05/12 Mic Drop's 'Texas Funny 2026' - Semi-Finals Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Comics compete for cash in stand-up showdown. 05/13 Ilana Glazer Live Majestic Theatre Dallas 7:00 PM Stand-up comedy from Ilana Glazer's hometown talent. 05/13 Lawrence Killebrew Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:30 PM Seasoned comedian delivers sharp wit and humor. 05/17 Bobby Lee: The Finally Tour 2026 Majestic Theatre Dallas 7:00 PM Veteran comedian delivers unpredictable, hilarious stand-up set. 05/19 C.J. Johnson: Comedy, Magic, & Illusion Uptown Theater Grand Prairie 7:00 PM Comedic magician blends humor and illusions. 05/19 Mic Drop's 'Texas Funny 2026' - Finals Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Local comedians vie for cash prize. 05/24 Totally Made-up Musical Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton 7:00 PM Improvised musical comedy born from audience ideas. Performing Arts Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 05/01 Ascension Latino Cultural Center Dallas 7:30 PM Young dancer talent on full display. 05/01 - 05/02 Compagnie Marie Chouinard Moody Performance Hall Dallas 7:30 PM Canadian troupe presents innovative dance creations. 05/01 Richardson Community Chorale presents 'Celtic Voices' First United Methodist Church Richardson Richardson 7:00 PM Celtic music presentation by Richardson, TX artists. 05/02 Irving Choral Concert Woodhaven Presbyterian Church Irving 7:00 PM Irving-based artists present classical and contemporary vocals. 05/03 Strings and Splashing Tails Robinson Fine Arts Center Plano 3:00 PM Ocean-themed classical music with interactive activities. 05/08 Garland Symphony Orchestra featuring Stefano Brizzi Granville Arts Center Garland 7:30 PM Italian pianist joins US orchestra for classic concert. 05/09 Stefano Brizzi, pianist presented by Las Colinas Symphony Orchestra Carpenter Hall at Irving Arts Center Irving 7:30 PM Italian pianist performs Beethoven concerto with Texas orchestra. 05/14 - 05/15 Jet Set! End-of-Year Recital Majestic Theater Dallas 6:00 PM Young dancer's energetic performance celebrates pursuing dreams. 05/14 PSO Chamber Concert Series: Up Close TBD Plano 7:00 PM Classical chamber music featuring women composers. 05/15 - 05/16 Dallas Black Dance Theatre: Prismatic Wyly Theatre Dallas 7:30 PM Dynamic dance showcases athleticism and artistry. 05/15 - 05/16 PRISMATIC Spring Celebration Series Dee & Charles Wyly Theatre Dallas 7:30 PM 05/15 - 05/17 Swan Lake Bass Performance Hall Fort Worth Varies Classical ballet tells timeless story of love and deceit. 05/15 - 05/17 Texas Ballet Theater: Swan Lake Bass Performance Hall Fort Worth 8:00 PM Elegant ballet with opulent sets and music. 05/16 - 05/17 The Dallas Conservatory's Year-End Recital (Dallas Campus) TDC Dallas Campus Dallas TBD Student dance showcase celebrates dedication and achievement. 05/16 Cello Alone Uptown Residence of ONS Board Directors Dallas 6:00 PM Dallas-based musician presents eclectic classical show. Art and Museums Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 11/23 - 12/27 Not Visible to the Naked Eye: Inside a Senufo Helmet Mask Dallas Museum of Art Dallas During museum hours West African wooden artifact revealed by CT scan. 07/14 The Real Unreal Meow Wolf Grapevine 10:00 AM Interactive art installation with hidden portals. 03/25 Exhibition Galleries and Rotunda National Medal of Honor Museum Arlington 10:00 AM Veteran memorials with 200+ immersive experiences. 09/06 - 07/26 Groundbreakers: Post-War Japan and Korea from the DMA Collection Crow Museum of Asian Art Richardson During museum hours Postwar artists explore materiality and performance. 09/20 - 09/26 Fire and Earth: Early Chinese Pottery from the MacLean Collection Crow Museum of Asian Art Dallas During museum hours Ancient craft and culture showcased in ceramics. 09/20 - 06/21 [ _____ ] Mirage Crow Museum of Asian Art Richardson During museum hours Multimedia art installation combines sound and video. 09/27 - 05/31 Mounds and Mist: Kondo Traditions in Clay Crow Museum of Asian Art Richardson During museum hours Celebrating a legendary ceramic art dynasty's 4 generations. 11/08 - 08/29 Paper Knife: Objects of Beauty in Early Modern Japan Crow Museum of Asian Art Dallas During museum hours Exhibition showcases refined decorative object craftsmanship. 11/09 - 05/03 Constellations: Contemporary Jewelry at the Dallas Museum of Art Dallas Museum of Art Dallas During museum hours Modern adornment designs showcased in art exhibition. 01/15 - 07/05 Roy Lichtenstein in the Studio Dallas Museum of Art Dallas During museum hours American pop art pioneer shares works and sketches. 01/31 - 10/24 Roy Lichtenstein in the Studio Nasher Sculpture Center Dallas During museum hours Artist (from) donates 50+ works to museum. 02/02 - 08/20 State of Mind Visual Resource Collections & Gallery Arlington 8:00 AM Abstract art from 20th-century masters on display. 02/14 - 07/19 Rhythm of the City Dallas Museum of Art Dallas During museum hours Urban landscapes explored in art exhibition. 02/22 - 06/21 Meadows/ARCO Artist Spotlight: Rubén Guerrero Meadows Museum Dallas 10:00 AM Spanish abstract painter's modern art exhibit. 02/22 - 06/21 Raimundo de Madrazo Meadows Museum Dallas 10:00 AM Spanish painter's 60-piece retrospective art show. 02/22 - 06/21 Yáñez: Saint Sebastian Revealed Meadows Museum Dallas 10:00 AM Spanish art expert discusses 16th-century masterpiece. 02/25 - 09/20 Paper Technologies: Italian Prints and Drawings Dallas Museum of Art Dallas During museum hours European art evolution on display. 03/04 - 04/30 Annual Exhibition of Irving ISD Student Artwork Irving Arts Center Irving 12:00 PM Elementary to high school student art showcase. 03/07 - 09/07 Soccer: More Than a Game Perot Museum Dallas During museum hours Exploring sports through physics, biology, and tech. 03/08 - 09/27 Rashid Johnson: A Poem for Deep Thinkers Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Fort Worth During museum hours Artistic survey with diverse multimedia works. 03/11 - 07/12 CHASING VICTORY: An INDYCAR Exhibition Arlington Museum of Art Arlington 10:00 AM Racing memorabilia exhibit featuring historic artifacts and culture. 03/13 - 09/10 The Walt Disney Studios and World War II Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum Dallas 10:00 AM Vintage entertainment company aids Allied victory effort. 03/13 - 05/02 Golden Ancestry James Harris Gallery Dallas 11:30 AM Contemporary art exhibit features post-impressionist and modern works. 03/14 - 06/13 Russell Lee Photographs Irving Arts Center Irving 12:00 PM Documentary photographer's archival exhibit on world tour. 03/14 - 07/11 Touch My Soul: Paintings by Pouran Lashini Irving Arts Center Irving 12:00 PM Artist's introspective paintings explore human experience. 03/15 - 06/28 The Holy Sepulcher: Treasures from the Terra Sancta Museum, Jerusalem Kimbell Art Museum Fort Worth Regular museum hours European monarchs gift rare jewelry to Jerusalem. 03/15 - 07/05 Black Photojournalism Amon Carter Museum Fort Worth Regular museum hours Historical black American life through 1945-80s photos. 03/19 - 05/01 Everything AND the Kitchen Sink feat: Gerald Bell Gallery 440 (400h Gallery) Fort Worth 9:00 AM Regional artist's latest mixed media showcase. 03/28 - 03/28 Intersections: Photographs by Carolyn Brown Crow Museum of Asian Art Richardson During museum hours Middle Eastern/Mediterranean architecture captured in layered photos. 03/28 - 06/06 Shared Ground Contemporary Photography of Place and Identity Artspace 111 Fort Worth 11:00 AM 03/29 - 09/06 Samurai to the Imperial Court: Japanese Metalwork Dallas Museum of Art Dallas During museum hours Ancient to modern metalworks on display. 04/04 - 03/14 Du Chau: Tracing the Threads of Memory Crow Museum of Asian Art Dallas During museum hours Porcelain art explores personal heritage and poetry. 04/04 - 05/16 Topographical Views Barry Whistler Gallery Dallas 12:00 PM Landscape art explores patterns and progression. 04/09 - 05/02 Chicano Group Art Exhibition Art on Main Dallas 10:00 AM Chicanx/Latinx identity and cultural contributions showcased. 04/11 - 05/23 BEN WOOLFITT: MORNING LIGHT Kristy Stubbs Gallery Dallas 10:00 AM Abstractionist's 40-year journey in paint and paper. 04/15 - 05/30 Edifice, Fount, Rippling Spaces Cris Worley Fine Arts Dallas 11:00 AM Abstract art show with textured colors. 04/15 - 05/30 Marco Querin, Kendall Glover, Ludwig Schwarz Conduit Gallery Dallas 11:00 AM Innovative art explores new visual perspectives globally. 04/15 - 05/30 waterlines Cris Worley Fine Arts Dallas 11:00 AM Artist explores built vs. natural environments. 04/17 - 10/11 Francisco Moreno: Historia Sintética Dallas Contemporary Dallas 11:00 AM Large-scale murals blend Catholic & Mexican cultures. 04/18 - 06/01 Lea Fisher & Metis Atash Parallel Reflections Samuel Lynne Galleries Dallas Not specified 04/20 - 06/06 Afrocentric Umbrella Gallery Dallas 6:00 AM African diaspora's artistic heritage celebrated through visuals. 04/26 Figuriamoci #3 Museum of Biblical Art Dallas 11:00 AM Contemporary art explores faith, spirituality, and creativity. 04/28 The Animated Life of Willie Ito Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum Dallas 7:00 PM Japanese animator shares career insights and stories. 04/28 - 05/24 Contemporary Collection Viewing Bee Street Gallery Dallas 10:00 AM Regional artists' fine art on display. 04/30 The Alhambra in the Age of the Spanish Enlightenment Meadows Museum Dallas 6:00 PM Historian discusses 18th-century palace art and culture. 05/01 - 05/31 Mosaics Workshop Museum of Biblical Art Dallas TBD Roman art technique class with hands-on instruction. 05/01 Early Purchase event for the UTA Spring Glass Art Sale & Fundraiser UTA Studio Arts Center Arlington 10:00 AM Exclusive preview for university community members. 05/02 - 06/20 Annual Group Exhibition Craighead Green Gallery Dallas 5:00 PM Multidisciplinary arts showcase features painterly diversity. 05/02 First Saturday Guided Gallery Tour Irving Arts Center Irving 2:00 PM Artist-led tour explores contemporary art exhibits. 05/02 - 08/02 More Than a Match Arlington Museum of Art Arlington 10:00 AM Soccer-themed art exhibit features memorabilia and installations. 05/02 UTA Spring Glass Art Sale and Fundraiser UTA Studio Arts Center Arlington 9:00 AM Glass art sale benefits university program. 05/02 - 04/30 Russell's Retreat: Summers At Glacier National Park Sid Richardson Museum Fort Worth 10:00 AM Wildlife art exhibition inspired by mountain lake. 05/06 Genocide, Nazi Medicine, and Postwar Justice Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum Dallas 7:00 PM Historian shares Holocaust medical atrocities and justice pursuit. 05/07 Spanish Cinema Now + 2026 in Dallas Meadows Museum Dallas 7:00 PM Contemporary foreign film series with global perspectives. 05/07 Spotlight Talks: The Art of Accessories Portrait of the Duchess of Arión, Marchioness of Bay Meadows Museum Dallas 6:00 PM 05/08 - 05/23 Spring 2026 Juried Undergraduate Student Exhibition SP/N Gallery Richardson 6:30 PM Undergrad art show celebrates emerging talent. 05/09 Echoes of Wonder: Paintings & Sculpture by Marilyn Jolly and Larry Graeber Irving Arts Center Irving 12:00 PM Mixed-media art show by eco-conscious artists. 05/12 Rule of Law Series: The Pursuit of Liberty - A Conversation with Jeffrey Rosen Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum Dallas 7:00 PM Talk on liberty and legal history. 05/12 - 05/30 Women in Art – Revealing Our Magnificence Art on Main Dallas 5:30 PM Women's art show highlights female creatives' power. 05/16 - 10/11 The Rainbow My Mother Shows Me: Echo Morgan Crow Museum of Asian Art Dallas During museum hours Intimate, body-centric art explores personal/cultural heritage. 05/16 - 08/16 Nic Nicosia: Everyday Surreal Nasher Sculpture Center Dallas During museum hours Retrospective featuring 25 years of artist's work. 05/17 Guided Permanent Exhibition Tour: Jewish American Heritage Month Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum Dallas 1:30 PM National heritage celebration at art museum. Sports Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 05/02 Austin FC II vs. North Texas SC Choctaw Stadium Arlington 7:30 PM Local team plays in professional development soccer. 05/05 - 05/10 Northwest Arkansas Naturals vs. Frisco RoughRiders Riders Field Frisco 11:05 AM Texas League Baseball: Fun for all ages! 05/14 - 05/17 PBR World Finals 2026 Dickies Arena Fort Worth 7:45 PM Extreme sports champs compete in high-stakes showdown. 05/16 Sporting Kansas City II vs. North Texas SC Choctaw Stadium Arlington 7:30 PM MLS NEXT Pro soccer match featuring a local team. 05/19 - 05/24 San Antonio Missions vs. Frisco RoughRiders Riders Field Frisco 11:05 AM Texas League baseball with promos & fun. 05/23 San Jose Earthquakes II vs. North Texas SC Choctaw Stadium Arlington 7:30 PM Professional soccer match with Western Conference opponent. submitted by /u/msondo to r/Dallas [link] [comments]

For over a hundred years, both the Four Sixes and American Hat Company have carried their own kind of legacy—built right and meant to last. The Four Sixes shaped by land, livestock, and the people behind it. American Hat Company built by hand, time, and a standard that doesn’t bend. A partnership rooted in 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙚 and 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚.➕✖️ •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Four Sixes Ranch and American Hat Company Announce Official Partnership GUTHRIE, TEXAS — The Four Sixes Ranch (6666 Ranch) is proud to announce an official partnership with American Hat Company, formalizing a long-standing relationship rooted in shared values, tradition, and a deep respect for the Western way of life. For years, American Hat Company has supported the cowboys of the Four Sixes Ranch, including its ranch rodeo team, outfitting them with hats built for the demands of real ranch work. This partnership marks an exciting expansion of that relationship, bringing together two iconic brands committed to preserving and advancing the legacy of the American cowboy. “American Hat Company and the 6666 Ranch just fit, it’s that simple,” said Keith Mundee, CEO of American Hat. “When you think about what each brand stands for, it’s the same story: heritage, grit, and the true spirit of the American cowboy. One icon representing another. We couldn’t think of a better partnership. We’ve been riding alongside each other for quite some time, but to make it officially official means a lot. It’s about honoring where we come from and carrying that legacy forward, together.” As part of the expanded partnership, American Hat Company will continue to outfit Four Sixes cowboys, while also collaborating on brand initiatives, storytelling, and select activations that highlight the authenticity and heritage of both brands. “American Hat Company has been a trusted partner to our cowboys for years,” said Carley Myers, Senior Vice President of Marketing for the Four Sixes Ranch. “This next chapter allows us to build on that foundation in a more intentional way. It’s a partnership grounded in authenticity, supporting the men and women who represent this lifestyle every day, while continuing to elevate and share the story of the American Rancher and the western way of life.” The Four Sixes Ranch, known for its legacy in cattle and American Quarter Horses, continues to align with partners who reflect its commitment to quality, tradition, and innovation. Together with American Hat Company, the ranch looks forward to honoring its heritage while shaping the future of the Western industry. About the Four Sixes Ranch Founded in 1870, the Four Sixes Ranch is one of the most historic and respected ranches in the United States. Located in Guthrie, Texas, the ranch is recognized for its excellence in cattle ranching and as a leading breeder of American Quarter Horses. With a legacy built on integrity, horsemanship, and innovation, the Four Sixes Ranch continues to set the standard in the Western industry. About American Hat Company Founded in 1915, American Hat Company is a Texas-based manufacturer known for producing high-quality cowboy hats worn by professional rodeo athletes, working cowboys, and Western enthusiasts alike. With a commitment to craftsmanship and authenticity, American Hat Company has become a staple in the Western industry for over a century. Media Contact: Carley Montemuro Myers Senior Vice President of Marketing Four Sixes Ranch [email protected] https://6666stallions.com/four-sixes-ranch-partners-with-american-hat-company/ submitted by /u/RodeoBoss66 to r/TheCowboyBunkhouse [link] [comments]

Hello r/Dallas, Here is another list of events for this week. User u/Puzzleheaded_Chef685 recommends Ragtime, put on by the Dallas Theater Center at the Wyly. It's in its final weekend and special discounted tickets may be available for young patrons. These events are hosted at the following site with more upcoming events listed for your reference: https://dfw.msondo.com/. If you would like to receive an email with a list of events happening in DFW, please click here. Please also reach out here via a comment if you have an event you would like to list here. I'm happy to help feature events hosted by active members of the sub Concerts Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/13 Unprocessed with ALLT Trees Dallas TBD German progressive metal band with Swedish support. 04/14 Kirby Welch Band The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 7:00 PM Funky beats fill three-hour energetic evening affair. 04/14 The Mic is Open with Azwalf Hazworth The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 10:00 PM Local artists showcase Cajun tunes late-night. 04/14 Good Kid - Band The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM Canadian indie pop/rock with catchy beats. 04/14 Helloween The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 7:30 PM German power metallers deliver high-energy show. 04/14 Ross Redmond at The Library The Library Dallas 7:00 PM Dallas pianist plays 6 decades of jazz. 04/14 Aaron Burton's Acoustic Delta Blues with Texas Slim The Goat Dallas 9:00 PM Texas-born blues musician performs with special guest. 04/14 КАТЕРИНА ГОРДЕЕВА В ДАЛЛАСЕ - стендап тур "ЭТО ОНА" Nack Theater Frisco 8:00 PM Russian author performs comedy from her book. 04/14 School of Rock X Frank Zummo The Revel Patio Grill Frisco 5:30 PM Frisco's renowned drummer joins local youth for concert. 04/14 Songwriter Night Hosted by Cameron Smith Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 7:00 PM 04/15 JoJo & The Pockets The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 10:00 PM New Yorker brings high-energy funk party. 04/15 Selah Band The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 7:00 PM Sultry rhythms and soulful melodies on stage. 04/15 Insane Clown Posse The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 7:00 PM Dark, theatrical hip-hop with horror themes. 04/15 Factotum, Cold Shot, 42Scratch & Thross Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas Not specified Emerging Dallas bands play indie rock showcase. 04/15 Lacuna Coil - Sleepless Empire Tour 2026 The Echo Lounge & Music Hall Dallas 6:30 PM Italian band performs dark, melodic heavy metal. 04/15 Erik Barnes at The Library The Library Dallas 6:00 PM American singer-songwriter from Dallas performs jazz & pop. 04/15 Branoofunck at Revelers Hall Revelers Hall Dallas 10:00 PM Funky beats and upbeat vibes by a Texas native. 04/15 Monthly Jazz Jam Stoney’s Wine Lounge Dallas 8:00 PM Texas trio rocks out with drums, bass, keys. 04/15 John Adams' Elite Jazz Jam The Balcony Club Dallas 8:15 PM Texas-born bassist leads weekly jazz jam sessions. 04/15 Karaoke with Snake The Goat Dallas 10:00 PM Karaoke night with pop, rock, and country songs. 04/15 Alice Cooper The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Legendary rocker brings iconic heavy metal spectacle. 04/15 Alice Cooper - Alice's Attic Tour The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Legendary rocker's signature shock-rock show. 04/15 Dinner Show with Eric Clapton Tribute - Bad Love The Revel Patio Grill Frisco 7:30 PM Dallas-based band plays blues-rock tribute dinner show. 04/15 Tow'rs Tulips FTW Fort Worth 8:00 PM Indie folk from Flagstaff, Arizona performs acoustically. 04/15 FREE SHOW - Big Mike's 3rd Wednesday-Cream's Disraeli Gears album + more cream adjacent jams! Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Fort Worth musician plays psychedelic blues tribute concert. 04/16 Riley Lemons Opening Bell Coffee Dallas 7:00 PM Texas singer-songwriter plays emotive country acoustic set. 04/16 Stephen Marley House of Blues Dallas 7:00 PM Jamaican singer-songwriter performs reggae acoustic tracks. 04/16 The Velvet Daydream, Daughters of Evil, Sickfiction Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas Not specified Texas punks deliver high-energy, fast-paced show. 04/16 Colab Live at Will Call Bar Dallas, TX Will Call Bar Dallas 9:00 PM 04/16 Evan Honer - It's A Long Road Tour The Echo Lounge & Music Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Emotionally raw acoustic performance by a Texas singer. 04/16 Soul Jazz Thursdays Sandaga 813 Dallas 8:00 PM Jazz fusion performance by a renowned artist. 04/16 Erik Barnes and Jeff Robbins The Library Dallas 6:30 PM Pianist from Dallas plays diverse musical styles. 04/16 Nostalgix at Ductwork SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Canadian electronic producer plays at Ductwork. 04/16 Pop's Brass Band at Revelers Hall Revelers Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Brass band plays energetic traditional jazz beats. 04/16 Wade Girton at Revelers Hall Revelers Hall Dallas 5:00 PM Smooth jazz by acclaimed US musician. 04/16 Yonder Mountain String Band w/ The Fretliners The Kessler Dallas 8:00 PM Innovative bluegrass-rock fusion with soulful harmonies. 04/16 Surfer Girl w/ Doublecamp and Dylan Cotrone Sundown at Granada Dallas 7:30 PM Coastal-infused indie pop with reggae vibes. 04/16 Blues Jam The Goat Dallas 9:00 PM Local blues musicians host weekly jam session. 04/16 Thursday Weekly Party Tkila Dallas Dallas 9:00 PM Lively Thursday night party with upbeat tunes. 04/16 Legacy Hall - '90s Tribute: The Clinton Years Legacy Hall Plano 6:00 PM Texas band plays '90s pop-rock hits. 04/16 Selena Birthday Bash Tulips FTW Fort Worth 9:00 PM Tejano legend's birthday bash with classic hits. 04/16 Saliva Tannahill's Tavern & Music Hall Fort Worth 8:00 PM High-energy rock and nu-metal with heavy guitar. 04/16 FREE SHOW - Playtown Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Energetic Texas-based band blends rock & funk. 04/17 Electric Callboy: Tanzneid World Tour South Side Ballroom Dallas 7:00 PM German metal band headlines with Australian support. 04/17 The Brook and The Bluff The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM Indie rock and pop with soulful vibes. 04/17 ERRA & Currents: The Silence Follows Tour 2026 House of Blues Dallas 5:30 PM Metalcore/post-hardcore show with UK support. 04/17 The Creekers House of Blues Dallas 7:00 PM Kentucky-based band plays bluegrass/country in Cambridge Room. 04/17 Yung Bleu Trees Dallas 8:00 PM Smooth vocals meet emotional hip-hop beats. 04/17 Wake Me, Big Story, Drive Thru Society, Blue Babe Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas Not specified Regional alt-rockers bring high-energy performances. 04/17 Fenix TX with 30footFALL and UpSetting Club Dada Dallas 7:00 PM Reunited Texan bands play high-energy pop-punk. 04/17 Big Head Todd and The Monsters Longhorn Ballroom Dallas 8:00 PM Veteran rockers from Colorado perform high-energy blues-rock. 04/17 Voxtrot Deep Ellum Art Co Dallas 8:00 PM Austin's indie-pop darlings bring sparkly, romantic vibes. 04/17 DJ Champion & Isenberg It'll Do Club Dallas 9:00 PM Energetic DJ set with Canadian and Texan DJs. 04/17 Goga at The Library The Library Dallas 8:30 PM Dallas-based singer-songwriter plays diverse genre styles. 04/17 - 04/18 elrow SILO Dallas 9:00 PM Spanish event brand hosts pulsing EDM extravaganza. 04/17 Tricky Weather at Revelers Hall Revelers Hall Dallas TBD Energetic performance with eclectic beats and vibes. 04/17 Kolton Moore & The Clever Few w/ Calder Allen Granada Theater Dallas 8:00 PM Texas-based band performs heartfelt country-rock concert. 04/17 3 Saints The Goat Dallas 10:00 PM Energetic rock-blues at a beloved local haunt. 04/17 Rock Viernes Tkila Dallas Dallas 10:00 PM Rock party with rock & Latin beats. 04/17 Gabby Minton LIVE at Lakewood Brewing! Lakewood Brewing Company Garland 5:30 PM Fort Worth singer-songwriter plays acoustic indie/Americana tunes. 04/17 DJ Severa at Bar Louie Bar Louie Music Factory Irving 9:00 PM Dallas DJ plays upbeat electronic dance music. 04/17 Aimee Bobruk Live Texican Court Irving 7:00 PM Texas singer-songwriter performs Americana roots music. 04/17 Sajjan Live in Dallas Texas Live! Arlington 8:30 PM Nepalese singer-songwriter blends pop and folk styles. 04/17 Josh Ward Love and War in Texas Plano 8:00 PM Houston native performs authentic country music concert. 04/17 Traveller & Bluebird: Tributes to Chris Stapleton & Miranda Lambert Legacy Hall Plano 6:00 PM Country tribute concert honors modern icons 04/17 U2 Tribute - In The Name of Pride & The Revel Patio Grill Frisco 7:30 PM Irish rock classics played by Dallas group. 04/17 Phil Hamilton Tulips FTW Fort Worth 8:00 PM Fort Worth, TX native plays country classics. 04/17 Grammy Nominated Bassist Eddie Gomez Scat Jazz Lounge Fort Worth 10:00 PM Grammy-winning Puerto Rican double bassist plays jazz. 04/17 90s Country LIVE @ Second Rodeo Brewing The Party Crowd Second Rodeo Brewing Fort Worth 9:30 PM 04/17 Everclear Billy Bob's Texas Fort Worth 10:00 PM Grunge legends play classic '90s alt-rock hits. 04/17 Lera Lynn at The Post The Post Fort Worth TBD Houston-born singer-songwriter plays intimate folk show. 04/17 House of Silk and Scandal The Ridglea Fort Worth 9:00 PM Vintage glamour meets sultry striptease. 04/17 K-POP WARRIORS The Ridglea Fort Worth 4:30 PM Vibrant K-Pop-inspired concert with high-energy dance battles. 04/17 COUNCIL HILL Dad Rock Night Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:30 PM 04/17 Krislyn Arthurs Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Talented singer-songwriter from Texas performs country music. 04/17 Boney James Texas Trust CU Theater Grand Prairie 7:30 PM Sultry sax and smooth jazz legend performs. 04/17 - 04/18 HARDY: THE COUNTRY! Choctaw Grand Theater Durant 7:00 PM Singer-songwriter from Nashville performs new hits live. 04/17 Jason Aldean Live in Concert Lucas Oil Live at WinStar World Casino and Resort Thackerville 8:00 PM Country superstar plays greatest hits live. 04/17 lowheaven with Drosera Texas Tea Room Dallas 7:00 PM Heavy metal and rock concert by Canadian band. 04/18 An Evening with Colin Hay Majestic Theatre Dallas 8:00 PM Scottish-Australian musician performs intimate acoustic set. 04/18 Zara Larsson The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 8:00 PM Swedish pop star performs with energetic choreography. 04/18 Jay Electronica Trees Dallas 8:00 PM Rapper from New Orleans delivers thought-provoking verses. 04/18 Daniel Romano's Outfit, Uni Boys Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas Not specified Canadian indie rock with a vintage flair. 04/18 Fund Them Kids Will Call Bar Dallas 4:30 PM Laughter raises funds for a good cause. 04/18 Panchiko Longhorn Ballroom Dallas 7:30 PM UK indie rock/dream pop duo plays nostalgia-tinged sets. 04/18 The Belair Lip Bombs & dust Sons of Hermann Hall Dallas 8:00 PM Australian indie-rockers bring high-energy sound. 04/18 DJ Seinfeld It'll Do Club Dallas 9:00 PM Swedish DJ plays melancholic lo-fi electronica. 04/18 Aubree-Anna at The Library The Library Dallas 9:00 PM Sultry vocals blend pop and classic hits. 04/18 Rachel Teague and the y2k baddies Revelers Hall Dallas 8:00 PM Energetic 2000s pop nostalgia with upbeat vibes. 04/18 - 04/19 Revelers Hall Band Revelers Hall Dallas 2:00 PM Traditional jazz and brass fill sunny afternoons. 04/18 Talking Heads Tribute - HEARTBYRNE Granada Theater Dallas 8:00 PM Austin-based artists pay homage to iconic rock legends. 04/18 Brent Rozell The Goat Dallas 10:00 PM Local rockers play energetic Saturday night show. 04/18 Hip Hop Saturdays Tkila Dallas Dallas 10:00 PM Hip-hop party with live music and DJs. 04/18 - 04/19 THE BIGGEST ALL BLACK R&B PARTY @ HEADQUARTERS DALLAS Headquarters Dallas Dallas 9:00 PM Rhythm and blues fusion with soulful vibe 04/18 Courtney Elayna Live Texican Court Irving 7:00 PM Texas singer-songwriter performs catchy pop-acoustic set. 04/18 Marisela The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Iconic Latin pop singer performs romantic ballads. 04/18 Marisela - La Dama de Hierro The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 8:00 PM Mexican-American singer performs timeless romantic ballads. 04/18 - 04/19 Bruno Mars: The Romantic Tour Globe Life Field Arlington 7:00 PM Funky, upbeat show with chart-topping hits from artist. 04/18 Jason Eady Love and War in Texas Plano 8:00 PM Soulful Texan singer performs Americana & country. 04/18 - 04/19 2026 Plano Music & Arts Festival Haggard Park Plano 11:00 AM Live music and art festival features performers. 04/18 Legacy West - Live Music Series Legacy Hall Plano 5:00 PM Local musicians from Plano perform acoustic sets. 04/18 2026 Dallas Country Music & Arts Festival The Beach at Craig Ranch McKinney 11:00 AM Country-blues fest with Dallas singer, vendors. 04/18 The Boho Market Live Music with The Hankins TUPPS Brewery McKinney 1:00 PM Local Texas band plays folk-acoustic at market. 04/18 Marlon Funaki Tulips FTW Fort Worth 8:00 PM Energetic guitarist from [country] plays indie rock. 04/18 Mahogany The Artist Scat Jazz Lounge Fort Worth 8:00 PM Dallas-based singer's energetic soulful jazz performance. 04/18 Travis Tritt Billy Bob's Texas Fort Worth 10:00 PM Grammy-winning artist showcases classic country hits 04/18 Cut Throat Finches "High Horse" Record Release Party at The Post The Post Fort Worth TBD Fort Worth indie rockers debut new album live. 04/18 ONE OR EIGHT 2026 The Ridglea Fort Worth 8:00 PM Japanese boy group performs energetic pop/hip-hop set. 04/18 THE MAESTRO AND THE PROTEGE IN CONCERT The Ridglea Fort Worth 8:00 PM Historic theater hosts classical/jazz instrumental performances. 04/18 Splattafish, The Funeral Procession, Killhouse The Rail Club Fort Worth Not specified Fort Worth's aggressive metal/hard rock acts perform. 04/18 ERICK WILLIS Magnolia Motor Lounge Fort Worth 9:00 PM Soulful country roots with Wichita Falls roots. 04/18 Stevie Nicks Live in Concert Lucas Oil Live at WinStar World Casino and Resort Thackerville 8:00 PM Legendary rock vocalist sings classic hits. 04/19 Little Feat Majestic Theatre Dallas 7:00 PM Energetic performance blends blues, R&B, country rock. 04/19 Azwalf Hazworf & The Love Sessions The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 10:00 PM Soulful R&B concert wraps up the weekend. 04/19 Rhythm and Reverb The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 6:00 PM Rock/blues fusion by American artist duo. 04/19 The Free Loaders The Free Man Cajun Cafe & Lounge Dallas 2:00 PM Bluesy afternoon of jazz and swing starts. 04/19 August Burns Red & The Amity Affliction The Factory in Deep Ellum Dallas 6:30 PM Australian band brings aggressive and melodic metalcore. 04/19 Poke Rave Three Links Deep Ellum Dallas Not specified Energetic electronic party with pulsating bass and lights. 04/19 Dallas Symphony Children's Chorus Spring Concert Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center Dallas 7:30 PM Young Dallas singers showcase choral artistry. 04/19 Benjamin Tod and The Inline Six Longhorn Ballroom Dallas 8:00 PM Folk-infused country concert with emotional storytelling. 04/19 Saliva - 25th Anniversary of 'Every Six Seconds' The Echo Lounge & Music Hall Dallas 7:00 PM Rock legends mark 25-year album milestone celebration. 04/19 Matthew Banks at Revelers Hall Revelers Hall Dallas TBD Jazz legend closes out the weekend. 04/19 The Ferrell Directive at Revelers Hall Revelers Hall Dallas TBD Energetic Sunday evening rock concert featuring American artist. 04/19 Karaoke with Javier The Goat Dallas 9:30 PM Karaoke night featuring pop and country tunes. 04/19 Sunday Weekly Party Tkila Dallas Dallas 10:00 PM Sunday night dance party with DJ spinning. 04/19 Plano Community Band presents "American Evolution" Charles W. Eisemann Center for Performing Arts Richardson 9:00 AM Texas-based group plays popular music arrangements. 04/19 Doug Stone Love and War in Texas Plano 8:00 PM Veteran country singer performs classic 90s hits. 04/19 Mike Graham & Race Ricketts The Post at River East Fort Worth 6:00 PM Native Texan musicians perform acoustic country set. 04/19 Mike Graham & Race Ricketts at The Post The Post Fort Worth TBD Texas-based singer-songwriters share country-folk tales. 04/19 Pandora y Flans: Mas Inesperado Texas Trust CU Theater Grand Prairie 8:00 PM Mexican pop duo reunites for historic performance. Theater Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 03/27 - 04/19 Ragtime Dee and Charles Wyly Theatre at ATTPAC Dallas Varies American Dream-themed musical celebrates struggle and hope. 03/27 - 04/26 Test to Testimony: An Adaptation of God's Trombones Jubilee Theatre Fort Worth Varies Gospel musical premieres with James Weldon Johnson inspiration. 04/01 - 04/18 Bull in a China Shop Kalita Humphreys Theater Dallas Various times Radical lesbians shake up 1901 New England. 04/02 - 04/19 Madam Queen South Dallas Cultural Center Dallas 7:30 PM Wealthy Black woman's life explored through drama. 04/09 - 05/03 Dream Hou$e Kitchen Dog Theater Dallas 7:30 PM Latina sisters sell family home on TV. 04/10 - 05/03 Over The River And Through The Woods Richardson Theatre Centre Richardson Varies Heartwarming comedy about love and family roots. 04/10 - 04/19 The Producers The Courtyard Theater Plano Varies Washed-up producer plots disastrous Broadway musical. 04/10 - 04/19 To Kill A Mockingbird Campus Theatre Denton 7:30 PM Wrongful conviction sparks racial justice exploration. 04/13 - 04/19 Ragtime Wyly Theatre Dallas Varies Families chase American Dream in early 20th-century. 04/13 - 04/19 Unnamed Matthew Posey Premiere Spectacle OCHRE HOUSE THEATER Dallas TBD Eerie premier features Baron McDoogal's dark creations. 04/13 - 04/18 Bull in a China Shop Bryant Hall Dallas Varies Contemporary play explores revolution, feminism, and history. 04/13 - 05/16 The Legend of DeadEye Mary Pocket Sandwich Theater Carrollton Varies Wild west comedy with popcorn tosses. 04/13 - 04/26 Test to Testimony Jubilee Theatre Fort Worth Varies Powerful music tells story of perseverance and hope. 04/14 Echo Reads: The Clean House and Eat Cake by the Lake Bath House Cultural Center Dallas 6:30 PM Free dramatic play reading with dessert reception. 04/14 - 04/19 Some Like It Hot Bass Performance Hall Fort Worth Varies Award-winning musical comedy with heart. 04/15 - 04/19 The Winter's Tale Redbud Theater Complex Denton 7:30 PM Elizabethan tragedy-comedy on love, loss, and redemption. 04/16 - 05/10 The Murder of Roger Ackroyd Norma Young Arena Stage at Theatre Three Dallas Varies Murder mystery unfolds in tiny village. 04/16 - 04/19 The Addams Family young@part The Firehouse Theatre Farmers Branch 7:30 PM Macabre teen's secret love sparks family drama. 04/16 - 04/19 The Legend of DeadEye Mary Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton Varies Legendary bounty hunter pursues outlaws and gold. 04/16 - 04/17 Romeo & Juliet - A Gallery in Motion Production Newman Smith Theatre Carrollton 7:00 PM High school drama presents ancient love story tragedy. 04/16 - 04/19 To Kill A Mockingbird Denton's Historic Campus Theatre Denton 7:30 PM Young black man faces false accusation trial. 04/17 - 04/18 Rising Excellence Moody Performance Hall Dallas 7:30 PM Emerging dancers showcase stunning contemporary movement. 04/17 - 05/03 Sweet Charity Lyric Stage Studio Dallas 7:30 PM Romantic dance hall hostess's tumultuous love story. 04/17 - 04/18 Beetlejuice Jr Irving Arts Center Irving 7:00 PM Youth troupe from Irving, Texas performs junior musical comedy. 04/17 The Comedy of Errors Granville Arts Center Garland Not specified Shakespearean comedy with mistaken identities and laughter. 04/17 - 04/18 Oil's Well that Ends Well - A Lone Star Murder Mystery Texas Star Dinner Theater Grapevine 8:00 PM Wild West whodunit dinner show with audience involvement. 04/17 - 05/03 The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals The Art Centre Theatre Plano 7:30 PM Average guy's life spirals into chaos suddenly. 04/17 - 04/19 The Play That Goes Wrong Upright Theatre Company Euless Varies Accident-prone drama group struggles through 1920s whodunit. 04/18 Talking Dirty After Dark Bath House Cultural Center Dallas 9:00 PM Intimate evening of mature storytelling and performance. 04/18 THE GREEN ROOM: WHERE THE REAL SHOW HAPPENS Pocket Sandwich Theatre Carrollton 11:15 PM Sultry performance art with tease and humor. 04/19 Drinking Habits Granville Arts Center - Small Theatre Garland 2:30 PM Nun's secret wine-making escapades lead to chaos. Comedy Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/14 КАТЕРИНА ГОРДЕЕВА - СТЕНДАП ТУР "ЭТО ОНА" Nack Theater Frisco 8:00 PM Russian comedian shares humor & honesty. 04/14 MIC DROP'S "TEXAS FUNNY 2026" - PRELIMS Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Local comedians compete for cash prize. 04/15 Weekly Open Mic Night TK’s Comedy Club Dallas 8:00 PM Comedians debut new jokes in a relaxed setting. 04/15 Aaron Aryanpur The Addison Improv Addison TBD Comedian from Chicago brings laughter to nightspot. 04/15 Steve Brown Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Comedic legend shares witty remarks and laughs. 04/15 Whiskey + Laughs Wednesdays Big Laugh Comedy Club Fort Worth 8:00 PM Comedy and cocktails every week, featuring locals. 04/16 Zach Rushing Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:00 PM Mississippi comedian known for unapologetic humor. 04/16 Monsters of Tokyo The Addison Improv Addison TBD High-energy comedian brings laughs from Texas. 04/16 Backdoor Comedy Open Mic Backdoor Comedy Club Richardson 8:30 PM North Texas' longest-running comedy open mic. 04/16 Charles McBee Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:30 PM Comedian shares nostalgic takes on pre-WiFi life. 04/17 Laugh It Off Dallas Comedy Club Dallas 7:00 PM Comedians share humorous take on personal struggles. 04/17 Primetime Friday Night Improv! Dallas Comedy Club Dallas 8:30 PM Improvisational comedy with local performers. 04/17 - 04/18 Willie Simon 7:30PM Dallas Comedy Club Dallas 7:30 PM Rising star from Texas performs stand-up comedy. 04/17 - 04/19 48 Hour Laugh-A-Thon The Stomping Ground Dallas TBA Non-stop 48-hour comedy improv extravaganza. 04/17 - 04/18 Four Day Weekend Comedy Four Day Weekend Theater Dallas 8:00 PM Improvisational comedy troupe generates laughs with audience input. 04/17 Bryan Callen - Special Event Hyena's Comedy Nightclub Dallas Dallas TBD Energetic veteran comedian performs with physical humor. 04/17 - 04/18 Pete Holmes Punch Line Comedy Club Irving 7:00 PM, 9:15 PM Laughter ensues with celebrated comedian's live show. 04/17 - 04/19 Gabriel Iglesias The Addison Improv Addison 6:30 PM Comedian from [Country] shares laughable stories, antics. 04/17 Backdoor Comedy Standup Fridays Backdoor Comedy Club Richardson 8:30 PM Established comedians from around the world perform. 04/17 - 04/18 Clean Improv Comedy Show Zingerz Comedy Club at ONSTAGE In Bedford Bedford 7:30 PM Talented players craft improvisational skits with audience input. 04/17 - 04/18 Drew Lynch Mic Drop Comedy Plano Plano 7:00 PM Rising star comedian from [artist's origin] shines. 04/18 Justo, Live! Dallas Comedy Club Dallas 5:00 PM Energetic, witty comedian delivers sharp insights. 04/18 Prime-Time Comedy Dallas Comedy Club Dallas 8:30 PM Talented comedians bring laughs to the stage. 04/18 Primetime Saturday Night Improv! Dallas Comedy Club Dallas 8:30 PM Talented local comedians improvise high-energy humor. 04/18 Backdoor Comedy Stand-Up Saturdays Backdoor Comedy Club Richardson 8:00 PM Weekend comedy showcase featuring top comedians. 04/19 Dropout Improv: Spring 2026 Tour The Pavilion at Toyota Music Factory Irving 7:30 PM Comedic troupe from New York performs improv. Performing Arts Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/14 National Poetry Month: Spoken Word Open Mic J. Erik Jonsson Central Library Dallas 6:30 PM Local poets share and celebrate original works. 04/14 Making History, Making Change Lecture Series: Smithsonian Curator Speaks on How Spaceflight Is Remembered Irving Arts Center Irving Evening Space exploration history and memories shared. 04/14 Katerina Gordeeva: It's Her Nack Theater Frisco 8:00 PM Award-winning writer shares new book excerpts and insights. 04/16 Sing with the Irving Chorale Weekly Rehearsals Woodhaven Presbyterian Church Irving 7:30 PM Community sings with Texas-based group every week. 04/16 - 04/18 UTDance Ensemble: Tribute University Theatre Richardson 7:30 PM Student dancers perform faculty-choreographed contemporary dance pieces. 04/17 - 04/18 DBDT: Encore! Rising Excellence Moody Performance Hall Dallas 7:30 PM Emerging dancers share fearless, energetic performances. 04/17 - 04/18 Rising Excellence Moody Performance Hall Dallas 7:30 PM Young dancers show off bold moves. 04/17 Rising Excellence 2026 Moody Performance Hall Dallas 7:30 PM Emerging dancers from around the world shine. 04/17 CIRCA: Humans 2.0 Eisemann Center Richardson 8:00 PM Australian acrobats push physical limits in dance. 04/17 Spring Tap Dance Showcase Arts Fifth Avenue Fort Worth 8:00 PM High-energy tap performance showcases intricate footwork and syncopation. 04/18 Cocina Flamenca LIVE 2026 Latino Cultural Center Dallas 4:00 PM Spanish-inspired dance and music festival experience. 04/18 Spring Contemporary Ballet Wyly Theatre Dallas 7:30 PM Modern dance fusion of movement and emotion. 04/18 Command Performance + Gala AT&T Performing Arts Center Dallas 7:00 PM World-class dancers perform dynamic contemporary and ballet. 04/18 Command Performance + Gala Winspear Opera House Dallas 8:00 PM Global dance stars perform stunning, innovative choreography. 04/18 TITAS/DANCE UNBOUND: Command Performance + Gala Winspear Opera House, AT&T Performing Arts Center Dallas 8:00 PM Australian dancer's innovative ballet and contemporary performance. 04/18 Dallas Black Dance Academy @ Dance Planet The Hockaday School Dallas 10:00 AM North Texas students showcase diverse cultural dances. 04/18 Sweet 16 Eisemann Center Richardson 11:00 AM Texas studio's dancers showcase diverse choreography. 04/18 KPOP Warriors Granville Arts Center Garland 7:00 PM K-pop dance extravaganza with high-energy choreo. 04/19 Dallas Cultural Dance Festival 2026 Klyde Warren Park Dallas 12:00 PM Global folk dance showcase with vibrant costumes. 04/19 Dear Jim Carrey Nack Theater Frisco TBD Indian-American comedian's humorous storytelling tribute. Culture Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/14 - 04/15 Dallas Design Days Dallas Market Center Dallas 8:00 AM Design expo with talks and displays. 04/14 - 04/15 Connected America 2026 Irving Convention Center Irving 8:00 AM US broadband industry leaders gather to discuss future. 04/16 DFW Chapter: Inside Event Marketing Irving Convention Center Irving 12:00 PM Industry professionals network and share strategic insights. 04/17 - 04/19 FoodieLand Food Festival - Dallas Fair Park Dallas 3:00 PM Global food fest with 250+ vendors & music. 04/18 Petting Zoo at Children's Aquarium Children's Aquarium Dallas 10:00 AM Petting zoo with friendly farm animals. 04/18 Grand Prairie Farmers Market Grand Prairie Farmers Market Grand Prairie 8:00 AM Community market with artisanal goods. 04/18 Earth Day at EpicCentral EpicCentral Grand Prairie TBD Eco-friendly celebration with community activities and exhibits. 04/19 Fair Park Farmers Market Fair Park Dallas 9:00 AM Local vendors sell fresh produce, handmade items. 04/19 Carolina Ascent FC vs. Dallas Trinity FC Cotton Bowl Stadium Dallas 4:00 PM Women's soccer game features American players. Art and Museums Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/14 - 04/18 Ro2 Art Contemporary Exhibitions Ro2 Art Gallery Dallas 12:00 PM Artists from around the world display unique creations. 04/14 - 04/19 Gallery DeFi Immersive Art Experience Gallery DeFi Dallas 5:00 PM Vibrant art destination with massive murals & more. 04/14 Drawing Circle Arts Mission Oak Cliff Dallas 6:30 PM Sketching techniques explored by international artist. 04/14 Preschool Playdate Meadows Museum Dallas 9:00 AM Art, stories, and play for kids and caregivers. 04/14 - 04/18 Museum Tours Sid Richardson Museum Fort Worth Not specified Western art pioneer exhibit guided tours. 04/15 Design District Gallery Night Craighead Green Gallery Dallas 5:00 PM Art and music fusion at twilight. 04/15 - 04/19 Facing the Rising Sun: Freedman's Cemetery African American Museum of Dallas Dallas 11:00 AM Dallas African American heritage exhibit on display. 04/15 - 05/30 Deep Fried Chianti Conduit Gallery Dallas 5:00 PM Artist returns to Italian heritage through textiles. 04/15 - 05/30 Dynamatic Conduit Gallery Dallas 5:00 PM Steel, bronze, and crochet art showcase. 04/15 - 05/30 Six Small Paintings Conduit Gallery Dallas 5:00 PM Acrylic gouache pieces showcase abstract, whimsical art. 04/15 - 05/31 Saint John the Baptist vs. The Antichrist: Rodin's Walking Man and the Age of the Immaterial Akim Monet Fine Arts Dallas 5:00 PM Bronze artworks meet conceptual forces in exhibition. 04/15 - 05/31 Time Capsule, Rodin, The Sculpted Voice Akim Monet Fine Arts Dallas 5:00 PM Sculpture exhibit explores human and nonhuman duality. 04/15 - 05/31 Samantha McCurdy Exhibition Galleri Urbane Dallas 5:00 PM Dallas-based artist's solo exhibit opens. 04/15 Second Annual Monitor Street Art + Design Block Party Galleri Urbane Dallas 5:00 PM Dallas Design District art and music celebration. 04/15 - 05/31 Stephen D'Onofrio Exhibition Galleri Urbane Dallas 5:00 PM Contemporary painter's solo show debuts at festival. 04/15 - 05/31 The Valley of the Giants Galleri Urbane Dallas - Outdoor art installation by Texas-based artist. 04/15 - 07/07 Window and Wind Liliana Bloch Gallery Dallas - Digital art explores reality's constructed illusion. 04/15 - 05/30 Edifice, Fount, Rippling Spaces Cris Worley Fine Arts Dallas 5:00 PM Layered paintings reveal artist's meticulous studio journey. 04/15 - 05/29 Lines of Emergence (Marseille Drawing Series) Pencil on Paper Gallery Dallas 6:00 PM Marseille artist debuts drawing series at opening. 04/15 - 05/30 waterlines Cris Worley Fine Arts Dallas 5:00 PM Artist from [country] showcases nature-inspired abstract art. 04/16 - 04/19 Pencil on Paper Gallery at Dallas Art Fair Fashion Industry Gallery Dallas 11:00 AM Artistic expressions spark conversation at the festival. 04/16 - 04/19 The Dallas Art Fair Fashion Industry Gallery (F.I.G.) Dallas - Contemporary artists' works showcased at international fair. 04/16 Thursdays on Tap Perot Museum Dallas 6:00 PM Late-night cultural event for adults 21+, featuring local musicians. 04/16 - 04/18 Dallas Invitational 2026 Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek Dallas 11:00 AM Global galleries showcase emerging artists' work. 04/16 - 04/20 Dallas Art Fair - James Harris Gallery James Harris Gallery Dallas 5:00 PM Contemporary art exhibit at annual city fair. 04/17 Conversation with Gajin Fujita Crow Museum of Asian Art Dallas 5:30 PM Japanese art meets LA street culture. 04/17 Dallas Contemporary's Spring 2026 Exhibition Opening Celebration Dallas Contemporary Dallas 7:00 PM Mexican-American artist's multimedia debut with extended hours. 04/17 - 08/30 Francisco Moreno: Historia Sintética Dallas Contemporary Dallas Not specified Ancient meets modern in vibrant, fantastical art. 04/17 - 04/19 2026 Architecture Week: Box City Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Fort Worth 10:00 AM Family designs sculptures for public architecture display. 04/17 - 04/18 Emerging Visions: A Student Design Showcase Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Fort Worth 5:00 PM High schoolers' architectural works showcased globally. 04/17 Special Architecture Tour - Light and Space Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Fort Worth 4:00 PM Architecture tour explores light and space design. 04/18 Workshop with Gajin Fujita Crow Museum of Asian Art Dallas 10:00 AM Contemporary art meets ancient Japanese warrior culture. 04/18 Metis Atash & Lea Fisher Parallel Reflections Samuel Lynne Galleries Dallas TBA 04/18 26:4 EMERGING ARTISTS 2026 + DALLAS ART FAIR AFTER PARTY New Media Contemporary Dallas 6:00 PM Multidisciplinary art showcase with diverse creators. 04/18 Exhibition Tour with Curator Thomas Feulmer The Warehouse Dallas Dallas 2:00 PM Guided tour of postwar and contemporary art. 04/18 Special Architecture Tour - Inside/Outside Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Fort Worth 3:00 PM Guided architecture tour explores outside-inside connections. 04/18 Chicano Group Art Exhibition Opening Reception & Low & Slow Car Show Art on Main Dallas 3:00 PM Lowrider cars meet Cumbia-rock beats from Texas. 04/18 Yoga and Pancakes Fundraiser for Women's Exhibition Art on Main Dallas 9:00 AM Women's wellness gathering with yoga and crystals. 04/19 Guided Permanent Exhibition Tour: Through the Eyes of Upstanders Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum Dallas Not specified Historical figures' stories explored through themed tours. 04/19 Collective Reflection Movement Workshops Arts Mission Oak Cliff Dallas 1:30 PM Improvisational dance workshops for empowerment and connection. 04/19 Let's Talk: Advocacy Town Hall Arts Mission Oak Cliff Dallas 11:00 AM Arts advocates gather for cultural exchange and planning. 04/19 Drawing from the Masters Meadows Museum Dallas 1:30 PM Spanish art-inspired drawing techniques for visitors. 04/19 Special Architecture Tour - Materials Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Fort Worth 3:00 PM Materials-focused architecture tour celebrates museum week. Sports Date Event Venue City Start Time Description 04/14 Tarleton State vs. TCU Lupton Baseball Stadium Fort Worth 6:00 PM Collegiate baseball team plays in spring series. 04/16 - 04/18 Glow Mojis vs. Tri-City Chili Peppers Riders Field Frisco TBA Neon-clad athletes play glowing baseball under lights. 04/16 2026 NCAA Women's Gymnastics Championships - Semi-finals Dickies Arena Fort Worth 12:00 PM Collegiate gymnasts vie for national finals spot. 04/17 Columbus Fury vs. Dallas Pulse Comerica Center Frisco 7:00 PM Indoor women's volleyball competition featuring international players. 04/18 Texas Speedbumps vs. Lake Cliff Strays Samuell Grand Ballfield #6 Dallas TBD Casual sandlot baseball with local friends playing together. 04/18 Kansas City Mavericks vs. Allen Americans Credit Union of Texas Event Center Allen 7:00 PM Frozen jerseys fill the rink on snowy night. 04/18 LA Galaxy vs. FC Dallas Toyota Stadium Frisco 7:30 PM Soccer match features American professional players. 04/18 2026 NCAA Women's Gymnastics Championships - Finals Dickies Arena Fort Worth 12:00 PM Collegiate gymnasts vie for national championship. 04/19 Carolina Ascent FC vs. Dallas Trinity FC Cotton Bowl Stadium Dallas 4:00 PM Women's soccer match: home team defends turf. submitted by /u/msondo to r/Dallas [link] [comments]

Monday, April 13 Folkgrass Jam — The Colony — 5:00 PM The Colony's Monday Folkgrass Jam is an open, informal gathering of acoustic pickers rooted in the folk-bluegrass tradition — a low-key early evening session welcoming all skill levels to join in or pull up a chair and listen. Singer Song-Writer Night — The Colony — 8:00 PM The Colony's Monday Singer Song-Writer Night is a weekly showcase spotlighting original voices from the Tulsa and Oklahoma singer-songwriter community — an intimate evening of storytelling, melody, and roots music in The Colony's Midtown room. Casii Stephan — Mercury Lounge — 8:00 PM Casii Stephan takes over Mercury Lounge's Monday slot for Night 2 of her April Mercury Residency. The Tulsa-based indie-pop meets soul-rock singer-songwriter has drawn national praise from NPR, Billboard, and SPIN — her "gorgeously emotive voice" earning comparisons to Florence Welch and Fiona Apple. Her acclaimed 2024 EP Relationship Status was produced by Ben Tanner of Alabama Shakes fame. Tuesday, April 14 Amber Watson / Linda McRae / Carter Sampson / Amelia White — The Colony — 6:00 PM Amber Watson is a Tulsa-based singer-songwriter whose soulful blend of red dirt, soul, and Americana draws on her Oklahoma roots and a long musical partnership with Turnpike Troubadours bassist RC Edwards. Her Tuesday Song Swap series brings together top singer-songwriters to trade tunes in an intimate round; this week's bill includes Linda McRae, Carter Sampson, and Amelia White — three accomplished Americana and folk voices from across the region. Jacob Tovar — Mercury Lounge — 8:00 PM Jacob Tovar is an Oklahoma roots country artist known for a booming baritone voice and an unwavering commitment to classic honky tonk. Perry, OK-born, he learned guitar from his late brother and honed his style at Cain's Ballroom and The Colony, going on to share bills with Chris Stapleton, Junior Brown, and John Fullbright. He leads the Tuesday night residency at Mercury Lounge. Chris Bell — The Colony — 9:00 PM The OK Ladies Showcase spotlights Oklahoma women in music; this week it features Chris Bell, a singer-songwriter performing as part of The Colony's ongoing series celebrating female artists in the Oklahoma roots and Americana scene. Wednesday, April 15 Bobby Moffett Jr — The Colony — 6:00 PM Bobby Moffett Jr is a Tulsa multi-instrumentalist — keyboardist, drummer, and vocalist — who brings his original hip-hop and R&B to the Wednesday Happy Hour at The Colony. He has performed at the Juneteenth Music Festival and Tulsa Overground Festival, and leads Moffett Music LLC, a creative enterprise rooted in the city's rich groove tradition. Evan Honer / Timmy Skelly — Cain's Ballroom — 7:30 PM ($45–$54 · All Ages) Evan Honer is a rising country artist signed to Big Loud Records whose road-worn, emotionally direct songwriting earned him wide attention in 2024. His It's a Long Road Tour supports his debut major-label material, with Texas singer-songwriter Timmy Skelly opening the show. A dollar from each ticket benefits the Schizophrenia & Psychosis Action Alliance. Beau Roberson / Pilgrim — Mercury Lounge — 8:00 PM Beau Roberson leads Pilgrim, one of Tulsa's most celebrated live acts — a roots outfit with elite players that can shift in an instant from alt-country groove to full-on rock and roll. Roberson cut his teeth with a long-running Colony residency and has since released albums on Horton Records with collaborators including John Fullbright and Jesse Aycock. He holds down the Wednesday night slot at Mercury Lounge. Drew & Ellie Holcomb — Tulsa Theater — 8:00 PM Drew and Ellie Holcomb are a Nashville husband-and-wife duo celebrated for their warm, interwoven Americana and folk. Drew leads Drew Holcomb & the Neighbors, one of the defining acts of the modern Americana movement; this Never Gonna Let You Go Tour features their collaborative album Memory Bank, blending his road-tested storytelling with Ellie's luminous harmonies. Dead Shred — The Colony — 9:00 PM Dead Shred is a Grateful Dead tribute made of Tulsa local musicians. Thursday, April 16 Zach Pack — The Colony — 6:00 PM Zach Pack is a Tulsa-based country and roots singer-songwriter who anchors the Thursday Happy Hour at The Colony, performing original material steeped in the Oklahoma country tradition. Molly Tuttle / The Band Loula — Cain's Ballroom — 7:30 PM (All Ages) Molly Tuttle is a Grammy Award-winning guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter whose virtuosic flatpicking and emotionally layered writing have made her the foremost voice in modern bluegrass and Americana. Her 2023 album Crooked Tree with Golden Highway debuted at No. 1 on the Americana chart; her 2025 follow-up So Long Little Miss Sunshine earned two more GRAMMY nominations, cementing her status as a generational talent. The Band Loula opens. The Creekers — Mercury Lounge — 8:00 PM (21+ · SOLD OUT) Kentucky-born six-piece tearing down the walls of traditional bluegrass with country energy and pop hooks. Their 2025 breakout single "Tennessee" cracked the top 5 of Spotify's Viral 50-USA and drew national comparisons to Chris Stapleton and The SteelDrivers. Debut album Pour Me In The Creek dropped in 2024. Doors 7 PM, show 8 PM. Huser Brother Band / Aiden Logsdon — The Vanguard — 8:00 PM ($22) The Huser Brother Band is a Waco, Texas country-rock duo formed by brothers Josh (lead vocals, guitar) and Zach (drums) Huser, delivering soulful, road-tested country with rock and roll punch. Winners of TCMA Country Band of the Year in 2025, they've shared stages with Koe Wetzel, Parker McCollum, and Dylan Scott. Tulsa's own Aiden Logsdon — whose Highliners blend Texas country, southern rock, and Americana — opens. Soup — The Colony — 9:00 PM Soup — also known as Dane & The Soup — is a Tulsa collaborative soul project founded in 2018 and fronted by songwriter and vocalist Dane Arnold, with members drawn from across the Tulsa music community. The band's gentle songwriting and stellar vocals sit at the center of a warm, soulful collective sound. Paul Benjaman Band — Mercury Lounge — 10:30 PM (Free) The Paul Benjaman Band plays the late Thursday set at Mercury Lounge following the ticketed show — a regular residency showcasing Benjaman's boundary-free blend of blues, rock, and groove rooted in the classic Tulsa Sound. He has toured with Steve Earle and John Fullbright and appeared on the Tonight Show, and his rotating ensemble of top local players makes every set a singular event. Friday, April 17 Cassie Latshaw — Mercury Lounge — 5:00 PM (Free) Cassie Latshaw is a Tulsa-area singer-songwriter holding down the Friday Happy Hour at Mercury Lounge — an early evening set of original country and roots music in the intimate converted gas station on 18th & Boston. Poppa Foster — The Colony — 6:00 PM Poppa Foster is a Tulsa-based singer, songwriter, pianist, and multi-instrumentalist born in New Orleans who blends New Orleans jazz, Memphis soul, Delta blues, and Tulsa Americana. He holds down the Friday Happy Hour slot at The Colony. Benjamin Tod & The Inline Six / Coleman Jennings — Cain's Ballroom — 7:30 PM (All Ages) Benjamin Tod is an Ohio-born Americana and folk artist whose raw, emotionally honest songs have built a devoted touring fan base across the country. His band The Inline Six brings a full-band Americana sound to the stage. Coleman Jennings — a Texas-born singer-songwriter on Big Loud Texas / Mercury Records whose outlaw country-meets-folk style draws comparisons to Townes Van Zandt and Willie Nelson — opens the show. Carson Jeffrey / Gatlin Johnson — The Vanguard — 8:00 PM ($28 · All Ages) Carson Jeffrey is a Cat Spring, Texas singer-songwriter rooted in the ranching and rodeo life — raised on Cross Canadian Ragweed, Ryan Bingham, and Casey Donahew, he built a grassroots following with his 2019 debut Muchos Sonidos and road-worn Red Dirt storytelling. Gatlin Johnson, an Oklahoma country/Americana singer-songwriter grounded in the outlaw tradition of Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson, opens the show. Grass Crack — The Colony — 9:00 PM Grass Crack is a Tulsa working-class bluegrass band known for playing hard, fast, and loud — a high-energy collision of traditional bluegrass and punk-rock spirit recalling Mountain Sprout and Split Lip Rayfield. Founded by Nathan Gray and Sean Stewart, both veterans of Tulsa's underground music scene, they released their album The Hits in 2023. Saturday, April 18 Avery Marshall — Tulsa PAC — 12:00 PM (Free · All Ages) The Orbit Arts Festival at Tulsa PAC is a free all-day celebration of local arts featuring more than 40 Tulsa artists and organizations across music, dance, theatre, spoken word, and visual art. Featured singer-songwriter Avery Marshall headlines the music programming alongside the Tulsa Youth Symphony and dozens of other performers. Free and family-friendly, 10 AM–5 PM. Bob Sheppard & The Nick Mancini Thr3 — The Colony — 6:00 PM Bob Sheppard is one of jazz's most versatile multi-instrumentalists — saxophonist, clarinetist, and flutist — who has recorded and toured with Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Freddie Hubbard, Steps Ahead, and Dianne Reeves over four decades. Nick Mancini is the Coordinator of Jazz Studies at the University of Tulsa, a vibraphonist and drummer with deep roots in the city's live scene. Together they form the Thr3 for this Colony Happy Hour set. Count Tutu — Guthrie Green — 7:00 PM (Free · All Ages) Count Tutu is a nine-member Tulsa ensemble led by Branjae Jackson and Nathan Wright, delivering a high-energy blend of R&B, Afrobeats, and funk rooted in the city's rich groove tradition. Part of Guthrie Green's 2026 spring programming, this is a free outdoor show in the heart of the Tulsa Arts District. West Texas Exiles — Mercury Lounge — 8:00 PM West Texas Exiles is an Austin-based five-piece Americana act formed by musicians from El Paso, Lubbock, and Amarillo. Their Y'all-ternative sound blends country, alt-country, and Americana with the wide-open spirit of West Texas, drawing on influences from The Flatlanders and Buddy Holly to Vampire Weekend and Jason Isbell. They've appeared at SXSW, AmericanaFest, and Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. The Crane Wives / Lilith Max — The Vanguard — 8:00 PM ($41 · All Ages · SOLD OUT) The Crane Wives are a Grand Rapids, Michigan indie folk duo celebrated for their intricate vocal harmonies, literary songwriting, and a sound that bridges folk, indie pop, and chamber music. They've built a passionate following across the Midwest and beyond through relentless touring and a string of acclaimed albums. Lilith Max opens. The Dull Drums & The Suzzies — The Colony — 9:00 PM The Dull Drums are a Tulsa psychedelic soul trio known for fuzzy, heavily distorted guitar, howling vocals, and a joyful garage-rock energy reminiscent of 1960s British Invasion records filtered through Oklahoma grit. The Suzzies join them for this late Colony set. Sunday, April 19 Nate Bellatti Trio — The Colony — 6:00 PM The Nate Bellatti Trio is a Tulsa jazz ensemble holding down the Sunday early show at The Colony, bringing original compositions and jazz standards to the venue's intimate Midtown room. Paul Benjaman Sunday Night Thang — The Colony — 9:00 PM Paul Benjaman's Sunday Night Thang is a weekly residency at The Colony showcasing the acclaimed Tulsa guitarist and his rotating cast of the city's finest players. Drawing on the classic Tulsa Sound pioneered by J.J. Cale and Leon Russell, Benjaman's groove-based, guitar-powered sets blend blues, rock, funk, and Americana into something always different and always memorable. submitted by /u/TulsaJambandSociety to r/tulsa [link] [comments]

You're about to unleash your inner cowgirl with a costume so complete, it’s like stepping right off the set of a western movie. But don't be surprised if your friends suddenly feel like they're missing out on the wildest party in town. Because this isn't just a costume, it's your ticket to becoming the undisputed queen of the rodeo. Okay so I was scrambling for a Halloween party. My roommate kept talking about this epic costume party. And I had, like, zero ideas. Plus, I’m always broke college student broke. So spending a ton on a costume was not happening. I was scrolling late one night, procrastinating on studying, and I saw this complete cowgirl outfit. It looked pretty legit, even the little toy gun. I found this one online and it actually worked. It had everything. When it showed up, I was kinda shocked. It wasn't cheap-looking at all. The hat fit, the vest was cool, and the skirt wasn’t ridiculous. I even put on the little sheriff badge. I felt like I could actually walk into a saloon. At the party, people loved it. Seriously, everyone asked where I got it. I felt like a total legend, not some broke dude in a last-minute costume. It was way better than I expected for the price. Honestly, if you need a costume that’s actually good and doesn’t break the bank, you should really check out this cowgirl set. I'm telling you, it’s a game changer. You can find it at https://ursupermart.com/products/womens-complete-cowgirl-costume-set-halloween-party. submitted by /u/ursupermart to r/SuperMartScoop [link] [comments]

About a year ago I came out to my wife. It was liberating. I’ve always hated myself for these thoughts. She accepted me. Didn’t shame me. Said these thoughts and desires are normal. Since then I’ve brought up bringing men/women/couples into the bedroom with us. She said she would be open to it eventually. I really don’t want to push it on her. I want her to be comfortable with the lifestyle. Before kids we had two FMF threesomes. They were amazing! She was so slutty before us having our family. Her body has changed. But she is sooo extremely sexy. This past weekend I bought her a sexy revealing outfit for rodeo cookoff. There were sooooo many heads turning. I think that helped her self confidence. We have recently watched spit roast and gangbang porn together while roleplaying with her dildos She loves it and gets so turned on. Sharing her had always excited me. And now I want to share her with another man. Has anyone had a similar story? I want her to be ready why SHE is. But these thoughts are always in my head and I want to fulfill them. I hope they just don’t stay as fantasies. I love her so much. I’m still so new to all of this. Still processing my feelings and learning to love my self. I always tell her I wish I could control this. I feel like I came out too late and my time to explore myself is over. I apologize if I sound uneducated. I’m still learning a lot about myself. I’m open to be educated. submitted by /u/Awkward_Solution_459 to r/nonmonogamy [link] [comments]

PART ONE: The Making of a Vigilante (AKA Well-Behaved Women Rarely Make History) CHAPTER ONE Post Katrina New Orleans February 2007 -Dee- Dee spent considerable time choosing her outfit, finally deciding that moderately slutty was the look she wanted. Something that said she was trying too hard. That needy, desperate thing she knew he would be looking for. When she walked into the restaurant, she saw him right away, standing next to the hostess desk. He was a reasonably attractive guy, if a girl liked scum. Throwing a little swagger into her hips, she approached him and smiled. “Tom?” He smiled back, his eyes lingering on her breasts. She’d chosen her attire perfectly. “That’s me. You Penelope?” “I am,” she answered, then gave him a hug that lasted a little too long, which he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re gorgeous.” He seemed genuinely surprised. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She gave him her best seductive smile. Her new friend turned to the hostess. “We’re ready now.” He had no idea how ready she was. After they were seated, the server offered her the wine list. Dee’s eye immediately went to a two-hundred-dollar bottle of French champagne. A celebration was going to be fitting when she was done with him. “A bottle of Drappier Carte d’Or Brut please,” she ordered without asking, her French accent impeccable. Dee turned back to her date, smiling sweetly. “I remember how much you said you enjoyed true champagne.” It had come up in one of their online conversations—another amazing coincidence of things they had in common. “Love it.” A brief look of annoyance crossed his face, quickly replaced by a smile. “Just like we both love this place.” “Yeah. One of my favorites, for sure.” Dee leaned forward, deliberately showing off her cleavage. “Tell me about your job again.” She needed to be careful with how much she toyed with him. She was having a little too much fun. “I work in antiques. Buy them, have them restored, sell them for a fortune,” he bragged. That was interesting, because he’d told her best friend he was a bank executive. Given the kind of vehicle he drove and where he lived, there was no way he had much money. He just liked the women he was screwing over to think he did. “That sounds very lucrative,” she responded, sitting back as the server arrived and poured each of them a glass of the very expensive champagne. “Cheers!” They clinked glasses, and she tasted the bubbly liquid. A hint of peach, and spice too. Not worth two hundred bucks, and she wasn’t a big fan of champagne, but it had been fun ordering one of the most expensive bottles on the menu and watching him squirm. “Got kids, Tom?” “No, unfortunately not. We wanted to have a baby. But my wife passed away and it never happened.” He looked like he was about to cry, the lying bastard. “How about you?” he asked. “Uh-uh. Hate the little buggers.” She took another long drink of champagne. Dee didn’t bother to say she was sorry for his loss, and she was getting tired of toying with him. It was time to get to the point. “I just have to ask—if you make so much money, Tom, why are you trying to blackmail my best friend?” She took another sip as she watched his reaction. First he looked surprised, then confused. “I beg your pardon?” He could do well for himself in community theater, Dee decided. “Tally LeBlanc. You hit her up for fifty thousand dollars, you piece of shit.” He looked at Dee for a long moment, then stood. “I’d suggest you sit back down, Barry. That’s your real name, right?” His eyes darted from left to right, before settling back on her. He wasn’t looking at her cleavage anymore. But he didn’t sit down. She tried again. “My name is Dee Banks and I’m an assistant district attorney for Orleans Parish. If you walk away, I will bust you. I promise you that neither your wife nor your probation officer will be happy with what I have to say.” He slowly lowered himself back into his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. Barry took a deep breath, then straightened himself. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” She had to give him credit for trying. Dee took another long drink of champagne. “Here’s the plan, skippy. You are going to destroy those pictures you took of her. Every single copy. And you’re going to sign this.” She took an envelope out of her purse and opened it, pulling out a document. What could she say? It wasn’t legally binding, but it sure was fun. “Let me read it to you first. Just so I know you understand.” Clearing her throat, she began. “I, Barry Robert Gibson, do hereby promise to immediately stop blackmailing Dr. Tally LeBlanc in the amount of $50,000. I also promise to delete the naked pictures I took of her while I pretended to be in love with her so I could steal her money. And I promise to apologize to her. Last, I promise I will never scam women on online dating sites again. I acknowledge that if I break this contract, Assistant District Attorney Dee Banks will have my ass.” He stared at her, his mouth open, an incredulous look on his face. Dee took another drink, then smiled as the server refilled her glass. “Are you ready to order, madam?” he asked. “You know, not yet,” she said. “We’ve got to sort something out first.” “Very good.” He walked away, and Dee turned back to Barry. “I have a pen,” she offered. “Does this really mean you don’t turn me in?” The guy wasn’t the smartest bulb in the pack, but he knew enough to be wary. “It does indeed, Barry. You have my word.” She smiled. “Why should I believe you?” He picked up his glass of champagne for the first time and tasted it, grimacing. If she was a betting woman, the man had no idea what a wonderful glass of bubbly was even supposed to taste like. Dee didn’t stop smiling. “Because you don’t have a choice.” He grudgingly took the pen from her and signed the paper, pushing it back to her. “Put the date on it too, will you? Otherwise, it won’t be legal.” He dated the letter, then pushed it toward her again. With a flare, she signed it as well. “Are we done here?” Barry was clearly ready to leave, and who could blame him? “Ah, but no. First, pay up. That’s a pricey bottle, and I’m sure not paying for it. After you do that, meet me in the handicapped bathroom right by the entrance where we came in.” “I’m not doing that.” He sounded like a petulant child. “Yes, you are. Knock two times so I know it’s you.” Dee stood and made her way to the restaurant’s entrance, where she waited patiently until an elderly woman with a walker exited the bathroom. Then she went inside and flipped on the light. She waited about five minutes before the two knocks came on the door. Unlocking it, she ushered him in. Barry stood there awkwardly, looking over his shoulder as if someone was watching. “What the fuck is this?” She could see the venom in his eyes. “Back up to the wall over there and drop your pants. Undies too.” “You are out of your goddamn mind.” His voice was low and menacing, with a touch of fear. Perfect. She wanted him to be afraid. “It’s only fair. You have pictures of her. Now she will have a picture of you. We won’t use it unless you fuck up. I promise.” She offered an encouraging smile. Barry’s face turned red, which made her smile. “Look. Tally is waiting for me to call her and tell her that we have a signed contract and a picture. And if I don’t call her within the next fifteen minutes, she has written instructions to contact your probation officer—that’s Bill Perkins, I believe? And, of course, your wife. Just in case you were considering doing something more stupid than you’ve already done.” A girl couldn’t be too careful. Shaking his head, he crossed the bathroom until he reached the tile-stained wall and stood with his back against it. Then he unzipped his pants and pulled down a pair of black boxer shorts. “All the way to your ankles.” She waited until he complied, then deliberately looked him up and down, stopping when she got to his very average penis. Let him feel how degrading it was. Dee pulled out her phone and activated the camera function. Then she aimed and said, “Say cheese!” When he didn’t smile, she snapped the picture anyway. “Get rid of the pictures you took of Tally, and don’t ever do this again. To anyone. And don’t forget to apologize to her. That needs to happen. In writing. Within the next twenty-four hours.” Dee put the phone back into her purse and walked out the door, leaving him with his pants still wrapped around his ankles. Piece of cake. CHAPTER TWO ______________________________ Two Days Prior -Dee- “You know there’s a name for what this asshole did to you,” Dee declared. When was her best friend going to stop meeting these losers online? “You mean love bombing? I’m painfully aware,” Tally responded, holding back tears as she wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Dee sipped her Manhattan and shook her head. They were sitting at a corner table at LeBon Temps Roule, the dive bar on Magazine Street where they often met for drinks after work. Even though it was Monday, the place was hopping. “Then what the hell, Tally? You let him take naked pictures of you?” How could she have been so stupid? They’d only been dating for a month. Her friend broke down in tears, hiding her face. “I don’t know. He told me he wanted to be able to see me like that when he was on a business trip.” She wiped her nose again. “And I mean, look at me. I’m not pretty, and blonde, and thin, like you. I know that. But he made me feel like I was.” She finally looked up at Dee, her eyes like a puppy’s. “So, he came over last week and I posed for them. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. If those get out, my career is gone, and I’ll lose my license.” She started crying again. “But to answer your question. I thought he loved me. And I’m an idiot, that’s why.” Dee had spent many a night over the last thirty years holding Tally’s hand while her relationships blew up on her. No matter where she searched, and she searched a lot, Tally picked one scumbag after another. Not that Dee had much room to talk, after recently divorcing husband number four. At least she knew how to find love, even if she couldn’t figure out how to keep it. She softened. “First of all, you are pretty. And you aren’t an idiot, Tally. You’re naïve. And he’s a dick.” She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Tell me again what he said.” “He called me yesterday. He said that he loved the pictures. He said he knew a lot more people who would love them too if I didn’t give him fifty thousand dollars.” Dee winced. “Holy crap.” The guy had balls, that was for sure. “Yeah.” She sniffled. “Like I have that kind of cash lying around.” “Well, even if you did, you’re not going to give it to him.” Dee would have to step in and help her. Again. “I don’t have a choice, Dee! It’s my career, my life! Who’s going to trust a psychologist who makes decisions as stupid as this?” “You’re a great psychologist. You just need to listen to your own advice. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you know what the right answers are when it comes to these bozos. You just don’t like them.” Without waiting for a response, Dee kept going. “And I’m not saying you should just roll over. I’m saying we figure out how to stop him.” Dee squeezed Tally’s hand. “Now talk to me. Tell me everything you know about him, and don’t leave out a single detail.” *** After dinner, the two women went back to Tally’s duplex and got online, where they began searching dating sites for pictures of Rob the love bomber. With a glass of Pinot Gris in hand, Tally typed in the internet address for Match.com, where she had originally met him. Dee watched, mildly impressed, as Tally deftly navigated the site. This clearly wasn’t her first rodeo. “He took it down, Dee.” No surprise, his profile was gone. “We need to keep looking. Guarantee you’re not the only one he’s scamming. What are some other sites?” “Let’s see. There’s Plenty of Fish, eHarmony, and a bunch of other ones.” “Let’s start with the free ones. Then work our way up.” For the next two hours, the women scoured fourteen dating sites, from the Christian Café to Naughty Neighbors. It wasn’t until they got to Millionaire Match when Tally stopped, drained her glass of wine, and sat back in her chair. “That’s him, Dee. Look at that. Now he’s pretending he’s rich.” Dee drained her glass as well, and realized she had a bit of a buzz, just what she needed on a worknight. She leaned in and took a long look at his picture. “So now his name is Tom.” She shook her head. The guy was a real jackass. “So how does this work?” Now that they had found him it was time to get down to business. “You have to create a profile first. And you’re going to need a picture. I’ve never used this site before, but unless you’re rich, you’re going to have to make some stuff up.” Being sneaky came easily to Dee. Too easy, if she was honest with herself. The good news was that as a forty-five-year-old prosecuting attorney, she had learned to use it for good—mostly. But when her best friend was in trouble, and the only way to help her was to be, well, sneaky, she was all in. By the time she was finished with Rob AKA Tom, he would rue the day he tried to screw over her best friend. Scamming women out of their money was just plain wrong. But scamming her best friend out of her money and ruining her reputation in the process simply wasn’t going to happen, even if Tally had behaved like a naïve schoolgirl. Again. Dee pulled the computer’s keyboard toward her and began to type. “Let’s see. I’ve always liked the name Penelope. Sounds like old school New Orleans, don’t you think?” Without waiting for an answer, she kept typing. “Forty years old, newly divorced, two kids. Hmmm.” She sat back and paused. “I’m thinking my mom just died and left me her big old house right on St. Charles Avenue. That sounds rich, right? And hopefully a little desperate.” Tally had opened a second bottle of wine and filled up Dee’s glass without asking. “I like it,” she responded. “And I’ve got the perfect picture. That one of you in Jamaica on the beach.” “In the bikini?” While she really didn’t want a half-naked picture of herself floating around on the internet, it was for a good cause, and she had to admit she looked damn good in it. “That’s the one.” Tally walked to the bookcase lining one wall of her living room, and pulled down a photo album. Then she sat on the couch and thumbed through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. “Let me scan this, then you can upload it to the site.” While Tally busied herself preparing the profile picture for prime time, Dee put the final touches on her description. Then they both sat back and stared at the finished product, satisfied. “Now what?” Dee was ready. She’d dated—and married—a lot of guys. But she’d never met them online. The process was morbidly fascinating, she decided. There they were, men lined up like different flavors of ice cream, ripe for the picking. That is, unless they were lying sacks of shit like Tom. “Give him a poke.” “A what?” Dee wanted to give him way more than that. “A poke. Tells him you’re interested. Go back to his profile. I’ll show you.” Dee navigated back to Tom’s description, and reread it. Forty-two-year-old man whose wife died of cancer just a year ago. A successful entrepreneur who had amassed an early fortune, and wanted a woman with money of her own so that he never needed to worry about her true intentions. He was looking for marriage, and he had three dogs—all rescues from the local humane society. The douchebag. Tally pointed to the blue icon on the screen next to his picture. “Click on it.” So Dee poked him, and he responded immediately. “Hello gorgeous.” Dee glanced up at Tally, who was standing behind her looking over her shoulder. This was going to be way too easy. The fucker must just sit online and troll for vulnerable women. So that was just who her new persona became. She didn’t understand how someone got off on being so cruel to people who didn’t deserve it. But when they did deserve it, that was a different ballgame. “Hi Tom.” She typed back. “It’s nice to meet you.” She paused, then added a smiley face for effect. “You are beautiful,” he responded. “Oh, now, you’re making this old girl blush,” she replied, trying her best to sound self-deprecating. She waited for him to respond, Tally hovering behind her. “Tell me about yourself, Penelope.” It was just the segue she needed. “Well let’s see. There’s not a lot to tell. I’ve been divorced about two months. My husband cheated on me. I’ve got two children who are my world. And my mom just died. I’m trying to work through her estate right now. It’s so hard, you know?” She took another sip of wine, waiting for him to bite. “Wow. That’s a lot. I’m thinking you need a night out. Let me take care of you. How about tomorrow night? What do you say?” What did she say? Game on. *** The next evening, Dee sat across from Barrel Proof in her red BMW, waiting for her date. She wore sunglasses, and had pulled her hair into a ponytail, shoving it under a New Orleans Saints ballcap. She had no intention of going inside the building, but she did want to get a look at him. Most importantly, she needed to figure out his real name. They had agreed to meet at the uptown whiskey bar at six o’clock. At five minutes to six, she saw him pull up in a white Ford Taurus, not exactly the kind of vehicle she expected from someone who was as wealthy as he had led her to believe. All she needed was a license plate number, and she’d just found it. No reason to hang around. He’d figure out eventually that she wasn’t going to show up. She drove straight to her office, where she had easy access to the state of Louisiana’s DMV system. Being an assistant district attorney for New Orleans Parish had its perks. After typing his plate number into the system, she sat back and waited until a name popped up on her computer screen. Barry Robert Gibson, age forty-two, with an address near the French Quarter. Then she looked to see if Barry had any police or court records. First surprise—though not much of one—he was married. That was useful to know. Second surprise, he was on probation for soliciting prostitutes and possessing cocaine, with two more years to serve. Dee was certain his probation officer would be interested in his online antics as well. Armed with Barry’s information and secrets, she opened her Millionaire Match account and checked her messages. As she expected, there were several from him, the last one just ten minutes earlier. “Penelope, are you okay? Where are you” Dee typed a response*. “I am so sorry Tom. Please forgive me. I had a family emergency. Will you give me another chance”* Vigilantism, she thought, is fun. And even better, she was good at it. Dee had forgotten how much she enjoyed bending the rules. Well, breaking them if she was really honest with herself. But that was okay. Becoming an avenger might be the new hobby she was looking for. Having just come out of another bad marriage, she needed something to occupy her spare time. Dealing with this asshole was giving her just the kind of thrill that had been missing from her life for way too long. submitted by /u/Margie500 to r/writingfeedback [link] [comments]

Copyright © 2015 Brent Antonson All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be duplicated, replicated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of the author. Cover designed by Hine Design ISBN- 0-XXXXXXX-0-0 Printed and bound in Canada 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 To those that don’t or won’t or can’t but say they want to, I say do. Leave comfort, leave the familiar, leave love and security and throw yourself into the unknown until you find the person in you that you finally recognize. ~bAntonson Ulyanovsk, Russia February 2014 Contents Introduction Moscow + 7 The Trans-Siberian Railway – Russia, Mongolia, China Patriotisms The Trans-Canadian Railway America as a Verb The Trans-American Common North Korean Sense China, North Korea Moscow 2 London Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Poland, Germany, France, Great Britain Epilogue Introduction I was five years old when I went to Russia for the first time. My parents had won a trip in an Air Canada contest and chose the Soviet Union, the farthest the airline flew from home, as a destination. This trip of a lifetime nearly killed us as we missed our connecting flight to Leningrad and that jetliner crashed, killing everyone on board. Not dissuaded, Mom, Dad, and I caught the next flight and landed safely on Soviet soil. It was 1974. While I was being dragged past the bottoms of portrait frames in Leningrad’s Hermitage museum, my father struck up a conversation with two young British men who had just travelled the Trans-Siberian Railway from Peking, as Beijing was then known. Hearing the details of their adventure, Dad envisioned himself and his family crossing the Soviet Union, some wagons behind a chugging locomotive on the world’s longest railway. He loved steam trains and the Trans-Siberian was the mother of them all. He conveyed his sentimental hopes to the young men and was told something he’d never forget: ‘You’d be a fool not to do it once. You’d be a bloody fool to do it twice.’ My brother Sean, four years younger than I, was soon old enough to travel, cry through flights, upend toiletry bags, and do things I dared him to do. We fared well, travel-wise, and though we forfeited ‘having’ by ‘traveling,’ years later it became apparent to us that we were richer than the kids who had cable TV, boats, and motor homes, but we frequently took our middle-class friends for granted. As a family, we went across Canada, through America, to the Caribbean, and Europe with such frequency that we missed almost as much school as the kids who got mono. I started collecting barf bags from different airlines. And headphones. And the occasional lifejacket. Travel was bred into us early on. Then, in a twisted series of events, our parents separated. Sean and I weathered the separation by blaming each other but at the distant end our parents retained a special, divorce-compatible relationship. Dad lost his veto power over Sean and me. He was on probation. He had to earn this back. The full story is twice as messed up as it sounds but the dust settled and, hell, it was time to get on with our lives. After two whirlwind trips throughout Europe with Sean, I was in Europe again, though by accident, not design. I had fallen in love and did what all beta-males do when they get that raw sensation of travel, emotion, and hot flashes. I quit my job and took the object of my affection to Wyoming and hoped to build our dream cabin in the hills. This endeavour failed terribly and I did a 90-degree turn and ended up in the former Baltic republic of Estonia, driving a church’s bus by day and drinking cheap Russian beer by night. But whatever I didn’t like about the newly-independent country, I would grow to love and respect. I would grow to love Russia. I would love the enemy. There is an annual international tourism conference, of which my father is a member. When Dad was told the following year’s meeting would be held in Beijing, it launched an epiphany he revealed to Sean and me: we could take the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Beijing. A signature around-the-world journey. I was 27 years old, Sean was 24, and Dad was sitting at 48. Sure, we thought immediately, our lives to date indicated this was a progressive step. In fact it was a detonation of ideas. Nine days on a train with my father and brother? Would there be the hierarchy? Would Dad be such a characterized ‘dad’ that we’d leave him in Omsk with a map of Sverdlovsk? I wondered if this would be awkward, a relief, family photo-ops, incompatible lives, too much quiet time, silent treatment, or suicide. Could we embrace this journey of journeys, suspend our disbelief, pretend, all for the train of trains? Or could we actually get along? We spoke about these difficulties at Neighbours Restaurant, we usually met up for the lasagna and a glass of wine with the owner. With both possibilities and doubts hanging in the air, we threw impossibilities across the table. It was a tough trip to organize. This wasn’t the internet age, our travel agent had only an elderly fax machine. He lost eight pounds working this journey out. And Sean and I planned a pre-trip to drive the Autobahn. We came to an agreement, “Done - we are doing this!” George, the owner said some kind blessing/recipe in Greek and smiled off into the kitchen. This was a trip, there was no plan to do another after it, least of all five major trips, one every three years. I was apprehensive about the first. And with an obscure clarity, I signed on to something, neglecting to write in my own fine print. Whatever was in that lengthy verbal contract would become apparent only much, much later. Moscow + 7 The Trans-Siberian Railway Announcements for lost passengers, missing children, and ‘don’t leave luggage unattended or we’ll blow it up’ ricocheted off the high ceilings of London’s Heathrow terminal - 3. Sean and I were there to meet Dad, who was flying in from a business trip in Thailand. Soon the arrivals doors split apart and, one by one, disoriented, glassy-eyed passengers arrived in the foyer to be scrutinized by the waiting crowd. We continued to wait. And wait. Sean and I had arrived from Belgium that morning and we talked about the previous week where the sheer need to sample Germany’s Autobahn, speed limit – unlimited, which had vehicularily seduced us. The road was powerful, the drivers, intelligent. Although we’d narrowly avoided death in three 50 kilometer long accidents, we did hit 200 kilometers per hour in a car built for recycling and funerals. I’d prescribe it for anyone with the symptoms of speed limit fatigue. An hour later, the doors pulled back again and there stood Dad. Fresh, clean-shaven and smartly dressed in a vest, he looked nothing like an entry in the ‘traveler’ portfolio – no eyes-at-half-mast hangover, nowhere near the point where one’s underwear looks like a tight corner on the F1 circuit. Sean and I, on the other hand, were partially bearded, somewhat vagrant-scented, and still steaming from the miles behind us. The three of us traded savage hugs, detailed the success of our previous week, and raised proposals about where to spend the night, all before the doors behind Dad shut. He was quite emotional about the first moments of our journey. ‘If you hug me any longer, ‘I said,’ I’m going to have to charge you my hourly rate.’ Dad broke away, slapped his knees in excitement, and asked where a real washroom was. It turned out that the nearest washroom was in a very expensive steak restaurant, where we took menus but didn’t ordering. Dad excitedly pulled out a toner-scorched fax showing our itinerary – a list that hadn’t been finalized until two days before. ‘Moscow – two nights,’ he skimmed. ‘On the train for four, then a stop in Irkutsk, train to Mongolia, three nights in the capital Ulaan Baatar, another night on the train and finally China for a week.’ We bumped fists before it caught on. A taxi took us into London. Arriving at a hotel where Dad smiled and said he’d cover the costs, we found that Dad’s palatial suite was three stars up from the luggage storage room for Sean and me. Jetlag and road-weariness put Dad and Sean into their beds early. I tried to get into the suitcases stacked in our room but they were all locked. By 3 a.m. we were all wide awake and decided to explore London by night, only to discover that London actually sleeps at night. At a 24-hour Tesco’s we shopped while London slept, buying enough food to get us through our excursion should we be faced with mystery-meat dinners, whether domesticated, rural payment for a favor, strays or roadkill. We spent a large sum on fresh fruit, water, soups, and cheeses – anything that we’d been warned might not be found ‘on the other side,’ in the folklore of Russian cuisine. Bags of groceries were carried to the hotel and packed into a chaotic smorgasbord duffle bag we innovatively dubbed ‘the food bag.’ Now weighing more than any other two packs combined, the food bag was counted the seventh pack for which we were now responsible. We carried our lives. Our packing complete, we called a taxi. As we headed for Heathrow we told our driver of the adventure ahead. He had a genuine interest in our plans like he’d seen it in a movie but was troubled by the fact of the three of us, being family, wanting to travel such a long distance together. He leaned his head back. ‘I work two jobs so I don’t have to see me family! As for the Reds, I hear they been paying their fellows driving taxis in beet roots and tampons. Imagine that! Not to mention they drive on the wrong side o’ the road. That’s commie thinking, ya know.’ He tapped his temple. ‘They don’t think like we do.’ As the airliner crept down the taxiway, a video screen displayed the consequences of heavier-than-air travel. Our aircraft reared onto the tarmac and cornered towards the runway as a Lufthansa 737 touched down. We followed it with our nose. Then the pause, the engines spooling up, the pressure as we started crawling, and the force as all that twin thrust’s tremendous fury chucked us down the runway. Soon we were aloft, the familiarity and security of western soil fell away. When the seatbelt light went off, Dad opened his writing vault and faded into unreachable mode. Sean was replacing his Walkman batteries. I released myself from my seat and walked to the rear of the plane, feeling giddy as I planted myself in a fog of smoking Russians. At the turn of the century, flights to and from the Motherland were still ‘smoking-friendly’. Sergei, seated on my right, introduced himself as an oil industry executive living in Siberia. I detailed our plans, which included a stop in Irkutsk. He smiled with some pride. ‘The Paris of Siberia.’ I told him I didn’t expect that penultimate slogan to be branded on the city. He continued, ‘It earned that reputation at the turn of the century, when it was the administrative centre of Siberia and home of the gold rush.’ ‘Seems every city in the world has a gold rush in its history – that, and a Great Fire,’ I put forth, rippling my fingers as if they were flames. ‘So we protected our gold with wood.’ ‘Irkutsk is beautiful place,’ he said, his voice trailing off. ‘Is that “beautiful” in a Parisian sense, or a Russian one?’ I asked. ‘A personal one,’ he evaded. ‘Hmm. Take that flight attendant over there. Is she beautiful?’ He considered her for a moment. ‘She is cute.’ ‘So we’re on the same wavelength,’ I said. ‘I think she’s cute as well. But not beautiful.’ ‘Irkutsk is therefore beautiful in a traditional Russian sense.’ He stubbed his cigarette in the tiny ashtray and rose. ‘Dosvydania.’ The plane’s landing gear grumbled out and its flaps extended. I leaned over the laps of the passengers between me and the window and scoured the view beyond the window. It was an unjustly Russian grey, deep dark clouds spit off intermittently in the descending airliner’s wake. The wheels slammed the runway, and for reasons I speculated as not landing a mile short of the runway, the cabin erupted with thunderous applause. It soon dissipated as we slowed and turned towards the terminal. A quiet herd of Ilyushins, Antonovs, and Tupolevs pushed across the apron, their tails wrapped in the liveries of Vietnam Airlines, Uzbekistan Airways, and Aeroflot. Rain dribbled down the windows as everyone took to looking at the inhospitable view of discoloured hangars, terminal buildings, and limp windsocks. We had arrived at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport. The aircraft vacated with a diuretic swiftness, and we were soon carried along into a cavernous area to await customs inspection. We were held captive with little personal space, but anticipating our adventure kept us eager and content. Then sweat began to drip off our faces. We had dressed ourselves for cold arctic fronts and deep-freeze conditions. This was not them. I removed my heavy jacket as we triumphed a step forward, then retreated half a step. After the first hour the energy had drained from our voices. We lost all sense of anticipation. ‘Line-ups are a national pastime in Russia,’ Sean said. ‘And we’re not even in the country yet. This is child’s play. Do you know they have line-ups for line-ups?’ ‘I can only move and sit,’ I said. ‘I don’t do standing.’ ‘We are not queuing like Russians, I think,’ Dad said after much evidence had cut in front of us. ‘I think there’s a herd mentality here. No one seems to have given this much thought.’ ‘True dat,’ Sean said. Dad asked whether we’d gotten our shots. ‘Yep,’ Sean answered. ‘I upgraded at the clinic,’ I said. ‘I could swim in Third World hospital waste.’ The crowd took a step back. ‘I’m tired of pretending I’m awake,’ I said. ‘Just think of the freedom beyond the kiosks,’ he said. I looked back at Dad and at each of his words. ‘This is not the time for optimism.’ ‘What antidote do you have, son?’ ‘Do you think invisible people can see each other?’ ‘Right. Right…’ ‘Is Jim short for Jimmy?’ ‘Dunno.’ ‘I’m also trying to figure out how accordions work. I may need new pick-up lines.’ ‘I always taught you to dream big,’ he said. ‘Actually, it was the mailman,’ I said. ‘He spent lots of time with Mom during the day. That’s why we always got other people’s mail. You wondered, now you know.’ No matter how much we tried to secure our place in the queue-less crowd, after a wait of nearly three hours we were the last three people to reach the only open inspection booth. Abiding by Canadian etiquette wasn’t going to work with Russian conduct. Once our visas had been stamped, we were left to seek our bags, which by now were circling the carousel alone. While we were retrieving them, a quick woman dressed in a conservative unisex skirt introduced herself as Plocha, our Intourist hostess. She folded up a placard marked ‘Antonson’, threw it in a bin, and motioned that it would be in our best interests to follow her. Then she was gone with a velocity that said she had other plans that didn’t involve us. We laboured past the happy hour at the security desk and found Plocha again at an Intourist booth in the lobby, hotel reservations in hand. Dad was quick to turn in a twenty-dollar bill, and received a fistful of heavily devalued rubles. That hour the exchange rate was 5,700 rubles to the American dollar. Not ten years ago you could have been a member of the bourgeoisie flashing bills of that calibre, but now it was a mere month’s wages. With a brush of her hand, Plocha escorted us out the doors and into a cold drizzle and disappeared indoors. I put on my insulated drizzle-proof jacket. An old taxi driver, the kind of old you hate to see lifting your luggage, hoisted all seven bags into the trunk of his sorely aged Mercedes. I thought we’d be burying him. But he straightened his back and gave a thumbs up. We piled into the back of the Mercedes, which had taken on a slight front-end lift, and pulled onto the freeway. We had a 45-minute trip into Moscow. The scene was bleak: the highway and roadsides slumbered beneath the residue of many winter sandings. Fat slabs of concrete that resembled apartment blocks sat in acres of barren land. Pockets of hardened snow lay about with no colour save more of the same dim ‘blech.’ Rows of trees, planted in ruler-edged lines, were black and leafless. The sky was the kind of cloudy that has no shape, just the texture of dirty bath water, a ceiling of flat, unending grey – not even the odd dark inversions of potential shower activity. It was, to be clear, really boring weather. Groups of residential blocks that only had views of other blocks sped past. Soon, more buildings grew alongside and a majestic ‘high-rise,’ steepled like a wedding cake, came into view. The driver’s bony finger trailed it while he muttered in Russian. This was one of the ‘seven sisters’ of architectural marvels, the Vysotki skyscrapers that had been constructed under Stalin’s orders to commemorate the Soviet Union’s victory over Nazi Germany. He denied it was envy after visiting New York and had anyone who hypothesized that, shot. This being Moscow, people on the street were dressed warmly, bundled in furs and hidden behind scarves. Many wore the traditional fur hat with earflaps. It was as if we were on safari, watching Homo Sovieticus in its habitat. Some hurried, walking like scissors, while others sauntered or stopped to look about. They manoeuvred around one another, stepping off cracked sidewalks then dodging a slushy puddle only to step up and around another. In the growing traffic madness, there were no lines for lanes nor methods. Cars incessantly honked at pedestrians. Sprays tailed the muddy vehicles as they deviated around potholes and splashed the curbs. Feeble mopeds pattered, trying unsuccessfully to wend their way through the traffic. Trolley busses, slow behemoths that they were, forced other vehicles to weave around them, into oncoming traffic. Horns shrilled, engines whined, and subtle slurps and screeches of bald rubber on asphalt echoed down the narrow corridors where buildings loomed. These buildings ate a good deal of the sidewalks’ width, tactically making both drivers and pedestrians appear smaller, more insignificant and shadowed. We pulled into the Hotel Belgrade carrying Intourist vouchers for three nights’ accommodation. The driver unloaded our baggage as we counted the bags off – our attempt at security, to ensure that our three hundred pounds of possessions remained our own. ‘I’m two.’ ‘I’m three.’ ‘Two!’ Providing the total was seven bags, there was no cause for concern. Any more would have been a concern. But any less was 100% anxiety split three ways. We stood amazed at the complications arising from a simple check-in. First, there were no computers in sight. Second, a robotic bureaucracy of tellers armed with pencils and rulers was copying out the particulars of our stay in one ledger book after another. Third, there were still no computers. We were informed that our passports would be taken from us for the duration of the journey. I suggested we get one of theirs just to stay above board but I was actually threatened with bodily harm by a wince. Russians speak fluently with their eyes. Dad was given directions to the few amenities that had survived since the hotel’s brochure had been printed. Our signatures graced the final column of a ledger book fat enough to seem of some historical or archeological importance, recording probably the number of towels restocked and soaps unused during Brezhnev or Castro’s last visit. When we were handed two room keys, it had been pre-determined that Sean and I were chain-smoking, boisterous hooligans with a propensity for loud music, slam dancing, prank phone calls, tagging gang signs, beer pong, and staying up so late it was early. Thus we should have a room to ourselves. Dad, docile, forgiving, and pragmatic, who wanted none of our festivities, took the other. The small elevator geared up and with the humming palpitations of a spin cycle rose to the thirteenth floor – a floor number that seems both normal and odd, depending on how one perceives the melding of basic elevator engineering, Soviet atheism, Russian Orthodox witch-burners, and a superstitious population. When the elevator stopped, the doors opened to reveal a large-bosomed floor attendant who looked like she was still pissed off that no one asked her to the prom. She spoke quickly, making indecipherable gestures, ensuring that anything we might pick up would be misconstrued and prevent us from asking her about essentials like ice buckets and fire exits. She took our key cards, swiped the locks, and threw open the adjacent doors. ‘Spacebo,’ I intoned. I handed her a maple-leaf pin, and received in return a small, semi-satisfied grin. There was something in her eyes but I made my eyes say that was not going to happen. Certainly not in the daylight. After unpacking, we dropped into the lobby and cashed in a healthy amount of travelers’ checks with a young woman stationed behind vertical bars. She counted, recounted, fanned them for our approval, and then pushed over to us three stacks of fresh and colourful rubles. She looked at us confirming the transaction had concluded. Russians speak fluently with their eyes. I was awed at her precision and body language. Her face could not have been more intense, unhappy, and heroically serious. The rapidity of her money-shuffling and counting was amazing, accomplished with the skill of a Blackjack dealer who counts her own cards – the studious and specific movements of someone skilled in routine and repetition. It was probably her youthful beauty and slim physique that kept her out of the union of ‘floor lady’ babushkas. For now. We stepped outside to face a bitter wind. On our left, Smolenskaya Avenue rose up towards an intersection and into the frigid gusts. To our right, the road sloped down some blocks to the Moskva River and an eight-lane suicide crosswalk. We opted for the wind at our backs, drew our cheeks deep into our lapels. A short, slushy walk up the street brought us to an intersection and a view of a noisy eight-and-a-half-lane thoroughfare, busy with rushing traffic and people trudging by. ‘Hey, this is it!’ Sean announced. ‘This is the Arbat, the pedestrian street known for its souvenir stands, organ grinders, monkeys, small arms dealers, face painting… uh, jugglers, accordion players, picture with a baby bear cub! I’ve always pictured it differently.’ We looked around. There was none of that in sight. The Arbat was disappointing and it accommodated far too many cars for a pedestrian street. Like “one” is too many. While stepping around menu boards and pricing the restaurants against one another, as capitalists tend to do, Sean and I lit up a cigarette. Dad, who reserved an unparalleled vehemence for those ‘who do such things to their bodies’, took to a pipe but didn’t inhale. Though hypocritical and often wrong in his theories about life, others’ lives, and each of our personal evolutions, he admitted he was learning – albeit at a pace that would take a lifetime. That’s Dad. If the pH of a topic is particularly acidic, he will neutralize it with a license to play both sides and common ground. He was almost unbeatable. Here, under the flashing bulbs of pubs, bars and restaurants, he tugged a bowlful of tobacco from his pouch, lit his pipe, and wandered along, free of concern. As the sherry-tinged cloud of smoke wafted on the breeze, a memory of my childhood arose, of winter nights learning chess in our den, the room filled with a thousand books and the fugues of Bach. Dad, armed with a snifter of warm brandy, would be working on something that’d come in the mail. He’d surrender his pen, turn his chair towards my short, pajama'd body, and say: ‘Rook to F-4, and don’t even think of pushing my buttons with that bishop or I’ll drop you into insolvency, which means no allowance.’ How, I wonder, from that decent quality of rearing did I get bent on smoking cheap cigarettes, guzzling cheap beers, and always wanting to be somewhere else than where I was? It escapes me. But not in a damaging way. I felt that maybe, someday, with my own children I’d be the man with the Dutch pipe turning to exchange the king and queen and saying: ‘Honey, the queen always goes on her own colour.’ Approaching what appeared to be a department store, we anticipated seeing real Russian products – pencils, calendars, nested dolls, and arc welders. Eastern European countries have a way of providing large stores for one item and small stores for everything else: one may find a store that carries nine thousand pairs of size-eight leather shoes and, next door, a counter displaying surgical tools, used gauze, tangled necklaces, and a litter of Shih Tzus. Entering this department store, we spread out and soon were attempting purchases. The effort consisted of pointing across a counter at the item/bottle/artifact and receiving from a clerk a slip of paper noting the price. This slip was to be carried to the end of the longest queue in order to await a confrontation with the cashier. When the payment had been slid into the register, a receipt was issued and a noteworthy twitch indicated that the transaction had been concluded. That proof of purchase was shown to the replaced clerk, who would have to be shown again what had been paid for. All this problematic and queue-causing hassle to purchase a bottle of water – a procedure that had to be repeated for cigarettes and once again for a writing pad. Why does this system appear to work? While viewing pocket watches (the failed end of Russian technology), I heard a commotion in the next aisle. A stern ‘don’t fuckski with me’ voice was trying to speak say ‘No smoking immigrant!’ I rounded the counter. There stood my father, crowned with pipe smoke, staring blankly at two babushkas yelling ‘Nye Koureet!’ at him. He looked on with concern, but obviously could make nothing of their charades. He just pulled on his pipe and watched them. Other shoppers had appeared at the ends of their aisles. ‘Dad!’ I yelled. ‘You can’t smoke in here!’ I watched as he tried to compose himself by jamming his fist, still holding the pipe, into his pocket. I was appalled and decided to take this to the next level. ‘Americans!’ I yelled to the assembled gawkers and hustling Dad into the canned-goods aisle. ‘We’re Germans! Fleeing to Berlin tomorrow! Again!’ ‘Tsk-tsk’ seems to be a universal expression of light contempt. Hobbling babushkas were muttering it. One dressed in widow-black wheezed out a curse. A fist tolled against the solid door of the hotel room. Roused, I put on one shoe and groped to the bathroom as the knocking persisted. ‘Dad … ’ ‘Mornin’, kid. Hey,’ he said, rubbing his mittens together with glee, ‘do you know where we are?’ ‘Nope, don’t care. Bye.’ ‘We’re in Moscow! I see you’re inadequately dressed for breakfast, so I’m off alone to the restaurant.’ ‘I’m not inadequately dressed father, I’m nude. Big difference.’ I woke Sean, showered, and suited up for whatever the elements could heave at me. A glance out the window showed the same roof of grey cloud hovering. Sean and I descended to the lobby and exited the hotel into an icy Moscovian Sunday morning. Patches of the sky were intensely dark grey, foreshadowing snow. We retraced our steps to the Arbat Street, and its bright lights led us to the charm and merriment of Novy Arbat proper – the pedestrian corridor, A Cyrillic McDonald’s sign hung suspended from a building of distinctive eastern European character. Far-off church bells infectiously belted out a stentorian melody of faith. The Russian people, Sunday after Sunday, year after year, for seven decades, to answer the call of a God in silent prayer, always with the fear of the imposed deity, the Politburo. God must have seemed to have all but disappeared. And now in this cobbled street to hear evidence of God ringing in the Arbat – an ironically strong testament to Mary Stevenson’s ‘Footprints’: ‘It was then I carried you.’ Low buildings siding the cobblestoned Arbat guided our stroll through gentle bends and turns. Kiosks were being set up, accompanied by the shuffling and huffed profanities that came from within. A kiosk, in the Russian sense of the word, can be quite a sight. Kiosks are shopping centres confined to the space of a large phone booth. There is a clerk, balancing on crates of illegally pirated tapes, seated like a prisoner behind a breadbox-sized window, which is the only means of contact with the outside world. The windows are filled with stuff and things. It can take a while to look through the sun-faded inventory. For they are the factory outlet for computer software, a pair of underwear, newspapers, licence plates, keychains, squirt guns, nail clippers, a toothy comb collection, and three aquarium filters, vodka, broken watches, spoons, jewellery, running shoes, grotesque ceramic figurines, and the left taillight and from a Ford F150 pickup. These kiosks are a joy to browsers, because they never know what they’ll find and might still not know what it is after they purchased it. The Arbat ended after a mile or so. Sean darted about while Dad wandered patiently, burning a knot of tobacco in his pipe. Our strolling through the crowds persisted until, in a magical moment, the dark grey buildings at the end of the street pulled back like stage curtains to reveal the crenulated red walls of the Kremlin. A massive fortress of unimaginable strength stood before us. Long before the trip had begun, I’d often dreamed of approaching this medieval city on horseback, yelling ‘Heeya-Heeya!’ – the sky ominous, with bolts of lightning on the horizon. There was a moat, a drawbridge. I’d yell to the battle tiers while my horse side-stepped nervously. I would dismount, grunt while being checked over, and walk with sharp-heeled clacks through a series of corridors into the common area. Litter and rubbish would swirl and settle. There would be piled-up carriages, broken wagons, and abandoned cannons. Loose chickens would scout about. I’d tie the leather reins on a brass post at the foot of a steep stone staircase. A whisper in her ear and a stroke of my steed’s split-ended mane would assure my friend that it was business and it would be quick. We’d never been apart in these last three weeks of torrential rains, shearing winds, sun-baked fields and hoof-wounding hill slopes. She had been the most faithful and diligent companion a messenger could wish for, and now, for the first time, was unsettled. I’d mount the dark wetstone steps, one hand gripping a beaten scroll wrapped in a faded sash, and knock masonically. Upon entering, I would reveal the wax-sealed document to the shaded face seated at a large oak table, beyond the reach of the flickering candlelight. And wait. ‘Rook to E-4?’ the stranger would say, with some shock. ‘Sir, I condone your efforts on the left board,’ I would respond. ‘But I assure you the rook will cover his next move – bishop to E-6!’ ‘Bishop to E-6? Good Lord, Antonovich!’ he’d exclaim. ‘I suggest you thwart the advancing pawn with a B-4, then work on developing the remaining centreboard. Preferably by locking knights,’ I’d say. ‘Well, you were right about this move of my opponent’s rook to E-4 … some time ago.’ He’d scribble with an ink-black quill and I’d furl the scroll, retreat with a low bow, and slip below and untie my horse’s reins. Setting off in the early hours, we would depart from Moscow and make a week or so’s ride south, to the Cossack-held ridge of the Ukraine. These are the dreams my medication affords me. The Kremlin is a triangular fortress dating back to the twelfth century, and is point from which all of Moscow radiates. It is also the seat of the former Russian government. It was the domain of the former Soviet government and the stage on which the tyrants Ivan the Terrible and Josef Stalin played their parts. Standing at the Manezhnaya pedestrian crossing, we stared at the Kremlin’s intimidating walls. High guard towers rose against the sky as if a brick god had built a brick heaven. Arsenal towers interrupted the solid red wall, which rippled and bowed over two kilometres around sixty-eight acres that at times encompassed the power centre of much of the world. At the ticket wicket of the Kutafya tower, I produced my driver’s licence and remarked ‘student,’ which cut my admission price in half. The three of us followed the wide ramp under the Trinity Gate tower. Inside the Kremlin, among buildings as much as eight hundred years old, we fell quiet. Here history stood still. There were palaces from deep trenches in time, churches cloaked in secrecy, halls, cathedrals, and armouries. We rested near the clustered perimeter of Cathedral Square. Golden, onion-shaped domes, topped with crosses, rose above us, survivors of a time without God. Soviet-era state buildings, faded the yellow of vitamin-enriched urine, seemed to harmonize with the dead grass and leafless trees around them. They stood strong and stern, fronted by guards posted far apart from one another, acting as a public guidance system. Tourists at the Kremlin, they seemed to project, is historic blasphemy. St. Basil’s is Russia’s Eiffel Tower, Taj Mahal, and Statue of Liberty all in one. Officially recognized as the Cathedral of Vasily the Blessed, or alternatively as the Cathedral of the Intercession, St. Basil’s is the postcard from Russia. It was erected in the fifteenth century as a prototype for Russian churches. Rising mysteriously from the red bricks with multi-coloured domes swirling from stonework towers, it almost looks edible. The fairy tale conceptual design was the work of a genius instructed by Ivan the Terrible to create a monument commemorating a victory in the feudal Zagon state. Damn Zagon! Legend has it that when the cathedral was completed, Ivan was so taken aback by its splendour, its magnificent craftsmanship, that he asked the architect if he could duplicate such a creation. Presumably the response was ‘Yes,’ for Ivan then had the designer’s eyeballs gouged from their sockets to prevent him from replicating the feat. Perhaps an apocryphal story, it may nevertheless explain the construction of all the cold, grey buildings that proliferated across the republics afterward. At St. Basil’s, we successfully passed off our driver’s licences as student cards again. Given the large number of people shuffling about, the basilica was eerily quiet. The walls could have echoed a thought. Cold and damp breath seemed to reflect the inner self. The prevalence of icons, bloodied Christs hanging agonized on crosses, paintings of a cloaked Mary, flat and haloed, and frescoes of saints was overpowering and intimidating - far from representing the God that my grandfather thinks saves him parking spots. A long queue wove out from a room and into the common area, but we filed past and out in silence and emerged to find Red Square alive with crowds of sightseers wandering under a broken sky. Lenin’s tomb, still an object of pilgrimage for Russians, was now closed. I’d read that a team of embalmers topped up Lenin’s fluids and changed his boxers every year. This was that occasion. The tomb is impressive yet morbidly odd. It sits before the Kremlin wall where Lenin made his great speeches to the masses. His mausoleum is another notable example of fine Russian architecture. Built from dark red granite and black labourite, it sits smug and silent, insensitive and durable. I followed the bright red zigzag band of smalt to the side, expecting to see a McXpress or a Subway, but instead found a revolutionary necropolis. Buried in two mass graves there lay some three hundred soldiers. Tombstones of Soviet leaders and heroes rose beyond them. Immured in the Kremlin wall were numerous urns containing the remains of prominent scientists and war veterans and the likes of Gorky, as well as Lenin’s wife, Nadezhda Krupskaya, and Josef Stalin. I tried hard to be moved by the tomb, yet found it cold, hard, and devoid of emotion. It was overwhelmingly Soviet. Perhaps I was not intended to be moved, only to be made aware. Off to the right of the square, we sought refuge in the GUM department store. GUM was the most recent construction in the square, having been started in the 1890s. The complex looked graceful, antiquated, and intended as an experience for the Russian elite. Within, nearly two hundred elegant shops graced the mall’s bright marble corridor. Iron catwalks traversed billowing planters and sculptured fountains, as decorative placards and banners praised the ‘850th’ year of Moscow’s founding. The prices of the goods suggested that whole residential blocks of income could not afford to fart in these stores. The items for sale – made of leather, cashmere, platinum – were not worn or possessed by anyone on the streets outside the GUM. The voices floating around me in accented English and the upper crust of other European tongues explained why. This was Rodeo Drive with a Marxist stained-glass ceiling. When my parents brought me to the USSR in 1974, my five-year-old self was intended as a diversionary tactic. I was supposed to assist Mom and Dad whenever they were approached by anyone checking to see if their papers were in order – the police, the KGB, the hotel staff, the doorman, anyone who could send other people to places where people wouldn’t live by choice. My innate cuteness would neutralize them whenever they asked for our papers. I would wave my hand and say, ‘These are not the capitalists you are looking for.’ It worked every time. In Moscow we’d been put up in the Hotel Metropol, one of Russia’s finest hotels. My memories of the time are vague, and they consist of vomiting after a good pull on a water fountain, a smiley-faced woman feeding me porridge, and vomiting that as well. Now, some twenty-two years later, as Dad, Sean and I stood outside the Metropol, I felt queasy again. My father splayed his arms wide with sincerity and said that he would treat us to Chicken Kiev in the dining room, to commemorate a meal we’d shared so long ago. I was quick to note that since Chernobyl’s reactor number 4 had tossed an unprecedented tonnage of ‘really, really bad shit’ into the air, Chicken Kiev had taken on a new meaning. Nevertheless Dad insisted, noting that the opportunity might not present itself again soon, if ever. The hotel had not changed much since my last visit; it was indeed still a five-star establishment. We sat in high-backed chairs positioned around a solid oak table the size of a snooker table. A five-star waiter, complete with a five-star smile, placed a triplet of beers, one per 300 thread count doily. ‘Nine bucks American a beer. Nine bucks,’ Sean murmured. ‘Yeah…’ Dad grunted. ‘Enjoy it!’ ‘There’s a kiosk outside selling a bottle of beer for forty cents,’ I noted. ‘Well, enjoy this one like it was your last.’ He was getting testy. ‘Critical Dad’ had so far been silent. He was back in a place and time when more of his life was ahead of him than behind him. Sean was filling out postcards with Dad as they sipped their tall pints. They seemed at home, or at least acclimatized. I was not. I strolled through the lobby. Chandeliers the size of cars; porters who were tipped amounts that would allow them to purchase designer suits and stock options; hotel staff that for a price would tuck you in and read you passages of Turgenev. The dining room, elegant behind French doors, its interior checker-boarded with white cloths draped across the tables, cloth napkins in pewter rings and cutlery hierarchies where you start at from the outside in. No placemats, no puddles around the water glasses, and clearly no key chained to something heavy so you’d return it was required to use the facilities. I didn’t know the five-star world, didn’t speak the five-star dialect, and didn’t look the five-star type. And I didn’t feel like pretending I did. With this feeling of inferiority that was rapidly developing into a complex, I took a few final two-dollar chugs of my beer and walked through the revolving doors, back into a world where I belonged. As if on cue, a beat-up Lada Niva 4x4 mounted the curb in front of me and died at my feet. The driver, a bearded, surly man, emerged and slammed the door. He cursed the vehicle as though it had left him for another full-bellied man. He bounced his fist hard off the hood, repeatedly yelling a phrase I’d yet to decipher but had the tune of ‘You stupid bitch! Aaah! Succumbing, capitulating, and faltering to the pressures of old age! Huh!?! Life is not simple! Repent! I scorn you for this lack of courage, cease this recalcitrant behaviour! Start! You stupid bitch!’ As if summoned by Russian inclusion, smoky old men emerged from the shops to engage in animated screaming. Fingers were pointed, hands were raised. ‘Hey, hey! What are you going to do, hit me?’ and ‘How could you not check the oil?’ One man stood behind them, nipping from a flask, appearing concerned. But soon waist belts were removed and thrust into the depths of the beast. Greasy fingers probed at its heart. Parts were withdrawn, balanced on the curb. Then a few of them made it back in, beneath the hood. The driver got in and kicked the engine over. It caught, emitting blue donuts of smoke. The Niva idled off the sidewalk and honked its way back into traffic. In 1991, the hard-line old guard came to the Russian White House to take a stand against the Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, and all that he represented. Gorbachev had opened the Soviet box and embraced two prerogatives that shook the very core of Soviet political values. Glasnost and perestroika – economic/political restructuring and openness, respectively – were boundless and limitless. And the Soviet Union was bankrupt. Something had to give. Gorbachev was held hostage at his summer home and began changing the letterhead. Russian president Boris Yeltsin, who welcomed a weakened USSR that would give his Russia more power, defied the rebels. In a visually appealing photo-op and seizing a chance to make a change, Boris Yelstin climbed up onto a tank and defiantly urged patriotic Russians to surround the White House and block the approach of rebellious Soviet troops. Yeltsin even managed to sway the troops themselves: when their generals ordered them to attack, they refused. The point was driven home that public opinion, as well as that of the army, had swayed across the threshold of democracy. Gorbachev resigned, and Yeltsin was installed in the Kremlin. He immediately banned the Communist Party. Two years later, with a new parliament made up of Russian nationalists and festering communist support, Yeltsin disbanded it. Blatant democracy in action. The power structure of the Kremlin and that of the elected White House went at it head to head. Yeltsin then ordered the White House to be encircled by the very troops he’d converted just twenty-four months prior. With this manoeuvre, he then requested its occupants to leave. Chicken Littles nationwide began to chirp. Pro-parliament demonstrators clashed with the military and riots ensued, leaving sixty-two dead. The following day, tanks and machine guns attacked the White House and troops were sent inside to ferret out the new dissidents. Seventy people vowing resistance lost their lives as a result, and the two main figures were arrested. It was these crucial, decisive days in history that had brought me, Dad, and Sean to these black iron gates. Plus it was a landmark visit. The White House had been built in the 1970s, hence, architecturally, this House of Soviets is nothing short of simplicity. Alone, for the minute, it was hard for us to ‘feel’ the presence of it all. For me, at least. An awe should have been held, or at least an honest ‘wow’ uttered, but I mustered up a throaty ‘hmm.’ Maybe I expected that there should still be turmoil, even a bubbling of unrest in the cauldron of the White House itself. Instead, it was rather sterile, blanched, and simply ‘there.’ I could imagine the staff gathered at the water cooler, discussing how much they loathed their day. We pulled ourselves along the gates to the back, whereupon we happened onto a memorial of old wooden crosses and fresh flowers propped in a circle of dirty trees; colourful tributes placed to remember those who helped change the world. The front of the edifice was approached by way of a muddy children’s park, muddy enough to conceal small, muddy children. Sinkholes ate at my heels, and the only refuge was a pinnacle of turf that slid into a hill of more mud. The front seemed to upgrade both the White House’s stature and its prominence. From this vantage point it presented the firm elegance of a bygone era. Its role in history faded to a kind memory. Were it not for the bloody encounters and its political importance, this building could have been passed as merely another box on the skyline. Across the Kalinin Bridge, opposite from the White House gates, sat another Gothic-motivated ‘high-rise.’ This attractive building housed the Ukraine Hotel. I settled on the steps, lit an American cigarette and praised the view while the Dad and Sean carried on inside. As I glared up at the nefarious building, scouting for gargoyles and jumpers, a small queue of taxis huddled up to me. Like pigeons landing at the foot of someone on a park bench, hoping for crumbs. ‘Sure,’ I thought, ‘one seated individual – eye contact with seven taxi drivers.’ Dad and Sean came out and said it was pretty boring, like a museum without art. A small grocery store lay around the corner, typified by its shallow doorway and lack of signs. Old women shuffled like cattle through the aisles. Dad delegated responsibility as we entered. ‘Sean, get buns or baguettes, lots. And Brent, cheese. See if you can taste a hunk first, in case we don’t like it. Hell, buy it, buy anything. We’re in Moscow! I’m off for drinks, one Pepsi, two Pepsi, and a Pepsi Light? Got it.’ I found the cheese section right between the severed pigs’ heads and the eight-per-carton eggs. The woman I faced wiped her bloody hands on a towel and flung it into a bloody basin. She was devastatingly beautiful, and the bloodletting added an amusing romantic angle. Whenever I approached a in a market, at a kiosk or in a store, I noticed the same precise glare. Russian women’s eyes often effectively convey ‘you’re interrupting me.’ This woman was no different. She looked at her task with the same seething eyes. I hated to ask. I wanted to lunge across the counter and tickle her till she pissed herself. But I’d be butchered by a butch babushka butcher. ‘Ya hotchoo kopeet … ya bwi xotel seer,’ I stumbled. ‘Kakoi?’ I looked among the blocks of predominantly white cheeses, each with a different price mark, and pointed to the one I guessed least likely to be lard. ‘Skolka?’ she asked ‘How much?’ I was getting impatient with her tolerance. I thought for no more than a few seconds, put my elbows on the counter, and did a shadow puppet on the wall. It was better than tickling. She screamed happily, a sharp laugh of surprise, and loud enough for the shuffling babushkas nearby to turn their heads – this mirth was against several rules. Whatever went between us was neither Russian nor English, but I liked it a lot. So, it seemed, did she. She handed me a slip that I knew was to be handed over to the cashier as the next step in this cumbersome, high-employment purchase process. Dear God. This woman was huge. A wonder. She looked as though she’d eaten her way back up her family tree and chased the others off. The nose guards on her semi-stylish eyeglasses were splayed out. I paid and decided not to count my change in her view. She stamped my receipt hard enough to dent it and I returned to the cheese girl, who then slabbed off a large block of ‘god-please-let-this-cheddar-looking-cheese-be-from-cow-milk’ in the amount to which I was now entitled. ‘Ezveni,’ I whispered, excusing myself. She smiled smoothly like she was awaiting a punch line. I motioned the chopping up of the cheese, rolling my eyes humbly to convey that I understood this wasn’t a logical request; but I needed the cheese in slices. Though there many have been a department for it, she sliced the cheese and smiled a forbidden smile and said ‘Pajaloust.’ Dad and Sean were already outside holding the armloads of a cheap lunch. Behind the hotel, further on from the market, we took to light on a bench in the middle of an attempted park. The Pepsis were labelled in Cyrillic, the bread doughy, and the cheese an agreeably aged version of cheddar. Flustered people walked by briskly, their clothing fabric rubbed quick with speed. An old man prodded his cane ahead of himself; his old suit dressed him up as a lonely derelict with some dignity intact. Children laughed and giggled behind our bench until one launched a rock at the other and both ran off screaming. A topic of my personal finances arose and RRSPs, portfolios, hedge funds, was entertained for some time because Dad had just paid someone to explain it to him. So he was selling it for free. We slurped our pops and traded fistfuls of bread for more cheese. A knifing wind picked up and played at our jackets, frequently unwrapping our scarves, which trailed down the dusty sidewalk. Our conversation was muted as we battled the arctic elements. After what seemed an eternity of maintaining our composure in the face of adversity, we neared a blue circular sign that had a capital ‘M’ emblazoned on it. ‘Metro?’ I put forth. ‘Mafia,’ Sean huffed. ‘I read it’s a rather large outfit here.’ ‘Dad’s the comedian in this family. I meant ‘should we?’’ We paid a pittance for three newsprint transfer tickets and stepped onto the descending escalator. The steps murmured as if one might slip out of sync and chuck a hapless rider into the gearing. The railing, I noted, moved twice as fast as the stairs. We sank to an incredible depth inside a dark and hollow throat. My ears popped. Finally we hit bottom. The Metro stations had been commissioned by Stalin not only for transport, but also ‘as an architectural ensemble of monumental installations.’ To show that the coming communist era would harmonize with the people, Stalin stipulated that each of the 158 stations be both stunning and different. Statues, frescoes, bosses, mosaics, and stained-glass ceilings were woven into existence by numerous designers to promote a sense of culture, comfort, and wellbeing. It had a way of making you feel cozy instead of under half a kilometer of bedrock entertaining gravity. Over nine thousand trains carried nine million people a day over nearly three hundred kilometres of track – that’s more than three billion passengers a year, making Moscow’s the world’s busiest subway system. Each station also did double duty as a bomb shelter providing the bomb wasn’t in the shelter, which would render that fact void. We mingled with the early afternoon traffic of pedestrians and watched the ceiling, where the chandelier crystals jiggled as a subway train rolled in. From where we were cornered, we couldn’t have reached the coach with firearms. The number of people packed on the platform between the two electrified tracks was in the stifling thousands. A train pulled into the platform, slid up, and spread open its doors. Fighting, shoving, and pushing hats down over the eyes of those in our way, the three of us fit into the vestibule so tightly that we couldn’t have fallen down if we tried. The doors closed. Someone screamed. A deep rumbling indicated imminent movement. Everyone leaned in unison towards the rear as we sped off to the next station. At Oktoberskaya station we were vomited into its Baroque trappings and carried along by the human exodus onto the escalator. This time I tried to gauge the distance. There were forty bumpy lights spaced a little over two me’s (let’s call it six feet in cowboy boots) apart, making the steep ascent some five hundred feet of diagonal climb, or one fifty-eighth of Everest’s height. There are, on occasion, breakdowns, and the resulting pandemonium rates a probable ten in that event class. Wait for the YouTube. Even if you love claustrophobia, there’s something unsettling about being pinched on a crowded platform between two tracks running with 800 volts that would seriously mess with your day. Later I was relieved to learn that in every station a forced air exchange takes place three times an hour. We emerged confused about direction and were flung into a crowd of kiosks, each of which needed to be looked over. To our backs stood a truly incredible and as yet untoppled statue of Lenin. Vladimir towered some three storeys above the traffic. I stood humbled, looking at his visionary gaze of a legacy he saw only a glimpse of. The power it stood for was sufficient to honour; the people who believed in him, the principles that guided his intuitive mind, those who saw him a political prophet of biblical lore. Respect for the Revolution doesn’t make me a Leninist any more than respect for Lamborghinis makes me a Lamborghini owner, but it does fascinate me that mankind has tried to govern people in so many ways, and often at any cost. And how I’ve failed to govern my money for a Lamborghini, at any cost. Lenin served history, primarily Marx and Engels philosophies, but history didn’t serve him well except post-mortem through the darkness of Stalin who showed the world how well communism could work if you oiled it with blood. There was no next destination the three of us could agree on, so we took the route with the least incline. Setting off into a late afternoon sun, we soon found ourselves at the gates of the famed Moscow park. Gorky Park in April looked like the post-retreat German front, bleak and sickly, muddy snow with windswept swirls of Styrofoam everywhere. They crinkled under our feet and blew along and around us only to get stuck fast in mud. An amusement park loomed behind a chain-link fence, and periodically passers-by would waddle alongside us, muttering to themselves. If Gorky Park was considered a place for recreation, picnicking, and badminton, I could understand the national proliferation of alcohol abuse. This was a tangible depression. In the Moscovian twilight we again strolled the Arbat. Dim restaurants threw their fiery light onto the stony walk. Dad sparked up his pipe and let loose a sash of smoke. The sky was devoid of both cloud and star, making it a deep and infinite ceiling. We picked up the sound of a plucked instrument accompanied by a low voice singing a soft Russian ballad. A tight crowd was bundled in a horseshoe around a man with what I supposed was a lute. Dad said banjo. Dad has a lone but keen musical ear and an appreciation for banjo music. Neither was passed on to his progeny. A woman stood beside the musician, hands clasped with intensity and her head swooning as she sang the long, full notes. It was powerful. For a while the duo captivated all of us, warming us like a flame from the inside. Time seemed to stop. Then a spark wafted from Dad’s pipe. It hovered, lingering like a fairy, only to be caught by a hint of a breeze. Dad left. Sean followed. It floated around the crowd, which stepped back as the spark wound in and headed towards the lute player and companion, where, judging from the abrupt change in pitch, it obviously settled on skin. The following morning came with enthusiasm. We packed and stored all seven bags in the Belgrade’s luggage room. We exchanged some more travellers’ checks and apprehensively approached the Intourist desk. Our passports were handed back to us, along with our train tickets and boarding passes, to be stuffed tight in our hidden passport and cash protectors – the 1980s legacy of the hip pack. Having some time before our taxi arrived, we headed for unexplored territory to the hotel’s south. Walking for an hour along the riverside led us on a bending venue of parks and city. Scenes of Moscow flooded our camera lenses, appearing more vibrant in the sun and vacant blue sky. Grey is a neutral or achromatic colour, meaning literally that it is ‘without colour,’ and Moscow has cornered the market on grey. It took a few sunbeams at the right moments to impress upon us that the rest of the spectrum was here too; from budding trees, attempts at grass, floral assemblies in windowsill planters to shutters, European cars, and advertising propaganda, colour played a role – but grey stole the show. The horizon of cookie-cutter apartments, smeared by winter rains, the endless sky, likely played a role in calming people by boring their eyesight to death. Back at the hotel, our bags were seized from beneath a pile of other’s people’s luggage, and Canada pins were passed off as gratuities to the luggage clerk, who recited ‘Vait ear von xalf xour.’ Our taxi was a part of the registration package, a package none of us really remembered anything about. It was at this point, where timing would prove to be everything, that we realized there was not a watch or clock among us. Dad asked Sean the time. Sean shrugged. They both looked at me in weak anticipation. I flipped a shrug off my shoulders. Trains in Europe have an uncanny fascination with strict time references, and that can be understood, even appreciated. However, from extensive experience, there is but a fraction of a second that separates an a priori platform calmness and receding wagon lights. We did the old playground chant ‘I don’t have a watch, do you have a watch? No, I don’t have a watch … are you sure you don’t have a watch? I’m sure. I don’t wear them.’ And so it was true. No watches, not a travel clock among us, and a schedule that cuts time by the nanosecond. There is a bit of depth to the matter. In our 1974 journey to the USSR, my father forgot to wind his watch and we arrived at the airport late. The connecting flight from Copenhagen crashed, killing everyone on board. Dad, being an armchair philosopher, rationalized that time was not to be limited to the second. He decided never to wear a watch again, and, in the past twenty-six years, he has never been on time for anything. It was rather irresponsible of us. The world works on seconds and minutes, it is the currency of life. And now we’d be losing time zones nearly every day. Huddling on our tiny perimeter of icy sidewalk, we noticed a battered yellow Mercedes pull in with a faulty short strobing its ‘Taxi’ sign. It eased a fat wheel onto the curb and sputtered a few puffs of diesel exhaust against our luggage. A lanky, leather-coated driver confirmed our names as he opened the trunk and grabbed our bags. I opened the passenger side door, there sat a bottle of petroleum distillate vodka, minus a third. While the bottle was privileged to occupy the front passenger seat, it rode shotgun and the three of us were placed, with some concern and discomfort, in the back. We left a patch of tire rubber in the figure of an ampersand and took off at great speed, then slowed a mile per hour to negotiate a U-turn. The tires were weighted, and the improved traction tossed us about as the Mercedes ran lights, cornered sharply enough to elude our shadow twice, and changed lanes with the grace of a police chase. The vodka rolled around the padding of the front seat, quivering like a stormy lake. Sean and I watched the driver’s abilities with critical interest, nodding our approval or disgust at each darting move. As the pale green bulb in the intersection ahead turned monochrome, then red, the driver geared down and attempted to slow; but the weighted rear chucked us over the crosswalk and into the intersection. With neck-snapping acceleration, our driver thrust ahead through nothing resembling enough space in the cross-traffic. Horns of various pitches did their best to warn us of the impending proliferation of scrap metal. Our taxi’s transmission could be heard ripping through the gears like it’d been locked in a bullpen and kicked in the balls. This was Moscow’s rush hour and we made him spend 40 minutes fighting it. Dad, meanwhile, was oblivious to it all. Lost in a happy place, he gazed out the window at the passing city. Sometimes his head would roll back as we turned rapidly, so all he could see was the ceiling. I know Dad, and insofar as he was concerned the driving was in the driver’s hands. Soon enough the taxi slid into a chiropractic U-turn and rode up onto the curb in front of Yaroslavl Station, home to our departure. A keenly swift porter lodged a trolley under the bumper, where the driver was dropping our belongings. Since the taxi’s fee had been included in our arrangements, the awkward time came to say ‘spacibo’ and he got a maple leaf pin. He said something about me and my mother and drove off. The porter inched the cart away from the taxi and disappeared into a crowd of many thousands of bustling travellers. We gave chase. He hadn’t gotten far when we tracked him down and anxiously counted our bags. The throngs grew in intensity as we cornered around the back from its south side. Babushkas dragged large, expandable plastic cubes of clothes and toiletries. Young men stood in groups, keenly watching for a friend, or more likely for a hole in the defence system of foreigners. A dancing placard read ‘Джон 3:16.’ Intermittently we were afforded a view of set upon set of tracks; stretching into the western horizon, where the sun was slipping down its wall of light. Above the commotion, the fur hats and tight scarves, in front of each track terminus, scrolled the destinations of Minsk, St. Petersburg, and Omsk. Intercity electrichka destined for Tver, Vladimir, and Bryansk awaited the nightly rush of rumps. Passengers were pulling themselves up onto carriage decks, arguing with station attendants, studying their tickets, and dragging their lives behind them along the platform. I knew I was becoming romantically involved with Russia. The porter slammed the cart through a set of doors and stopped in front of a large uniformed woman at a turnstile. Our boarding passes were produced for the first of so many times, and we were deemed worthy of entry. Our bags were hoisted off, ‘I’m two,’ ‘I’m three!’ ‘I’m two.’ Then we were ‘in,’ and the dimness of the cavernous station overtook us. Endless lines of imposing benches were occupied by hundreds of old Russian women. For the first time in Russia, I saw Asians, separated from one another by stacked boxes, crates, and cubes of wrapped clothing. In an empty corner, a pyramid was fashioned from our belongings. Dad and Sean set off to use the Telephone Bank while I squatted defensively beside our bags. Two babushkas leaned into each other discussing something with great fervor. Some children played tag around their family’s trunks, screaming cheerfully at each successful attempt at eluding that ‘hound at the heels’ touch of the pursuer. One child stood silently watching, his arm wrapped tight around his mother’s calf. His other entire hand was being used as a pacifier. Some old women, dressed in black, were crossing themselves in the north corner. One, covering her face in silent sobs, was being consoled by another with small pats. Rising from the longest wall, in phosphorescent red-pinned lettering, hung that quintessential railway station device and travellers’ beacon, the departures and arrivals board. It announced the location of every train bound in or out, from and to everywhere. A fuzzy transformation threw up new destinations and rid the black screen of news of recent arrivals. PEKING, our first train and inevitably our last city, was scheduled to leave in forty-five minutes from track seven. The Rossiya, the name given to the Trans-Siberian, famed trekker of the Motherland, was due anytime. My stomach ached with anticipation. A public address system, with an overpowering trebled feedback, repeated its announcement of the next departure and three subsequent arrivals. I re-counted the baggage to kill some time. Seven. I did it again. Seven. I did it again. Seven. The paranoid traveler courts confidence in the oddest ways. Dad and Sean emerged from the crowd, mumbling something to the effect of ‘First in space, and you can’t even get a telephone line out.’ With their return I was free to check outside for our train’s arrival. All three times, track seven was vacant. Ten minutes before its scheduled departure, I noticed it berthed at the station and ran to my team, flailing about like I’d taken a hit of DC current. Our seven bags, count ’em again, were scooped up and taken to the door and into a funnel of traffic at the turnstiles, where the crowd stopped any movement. There, above the heads and ushanka fur hats, sat the Rossiya, stretching far into the suburban land of tracks. An old porter, smaller than all but two of the bags, encouraged us to use his assistance. ‘Bilyeta,’ he said. ‘He wants our tickets,’ I said, looking to Dad and Sean. ‘What for?’ ‘Dunno … Pachemoo?’ I joined the porter’s knotted eyes. ‘Poez-duh,’ he enunciated, with an emphesis placed ‘duh.’ ‘Vagon?’ ‘Train,’ I translated. ‘Wagon. He wants to know our train number.’ ‘What wagon are we in?’ Sean interrupted, thinking he was helping. ‘Da! Shtoy vagon?’ the porter waved a mitted fist at all of us, though I took it most personally. We frantically located the tickets in our pockets and hip packs and passed them to the porter. His mitt ran a thick finger over the ticket, and he hummed as though a secret number was encrypted in the printing. It was a handwritten ticket; they all were – in the late twentieth century, someone was still writing out documents by hand! ‘Vosyem,’ eight. He pushed the cart ahead of us as he hollered to the platform full of people to mind their bodies and baggage. A locomotive, in quick engine-pulsing revolutions, rode to the empty dock on our right. Faces ducked to the windows, looking for loved ones or checking on the weather. A conductor stood a step down, waiting to draw out the stairs. Trudging past our own behemoth, we gazed happily at the Cyrillic signs in which held ‘Moskva – Peking’ was stencilled black on white. The hordes of people thinned as the porter halted and began unloading our seven bags at wagon eight. A chugging idle rose from beneath the carriage. Two Chinese officials in heavy, decorated coats sized us up. All we knew about our accommodations was that we had reserved three beds in a four-person berth to Irkutsk, some four days away. Our reservations had been made in Vancouver by an agent who’d been briefed that we’d like to keep it affordable and thus could live without certain amenities. We were now concerned about who would be occupying the fourth bed and our remaining breathing space. As the Chinese officials deliberated, a young Russian man, inebriated enough to stagger, joined our group, hollering a good lungful of vodka-laced air. He spoke insistently, and with the snide confidence offered by his consumption. I lost any ability to translate at the slightest slur, and instead guessed along with the others that this was our roommate. The shorter of the two Chinese men spoke in a quick and strong tone, to which the drunk reacted by producing a crumpled ticket. The perusal stole a heart-stopping minute, after which an official arm was pointed far down to the last few cars. With that, to our great relief, the drunk staggered off until the crowd enveloped him. A whistle sounded from a train some tracks over, and the platform vibrated lightly as it pushed away. The Chinese officials finally smiled and shook Dad’s hand, and one swung a reflexive arm inwards. ‘Preese, wekom.’ We hoisted our luggage inside the vestibule. Our compartment was the closest to the far end of the car, the last of eight such rooms, some bag-banging distance away. One official slid open the door to our temporary tenement to Siberia. Spacious enough for one, close for two, tight for three, and something like POW conditions for four. Dad and Sean fought ahead of me to load the cabin and claim bunk rights. The Chinese man rubbed his cheek, indicative of problem solving, and slid open the door to the next berth, encouraging me in with ‘Preese, wekom.’ I took no time in getting down to the matter at hand. I set out to make my room look as inhospitable as possible to any passerby contemplating cohabitation. I opened every zipper, placed perishables bruised-side-up about the table, crushed a brand-name cola can on the floor, unscrewed a light bulb, and began disrobing. I put my ear to the thin wall to hear the harsh utterances as Dad and Sean fought like brothers next door. A moment later Sean’s face, loaded with suspicion, appeared in my doorway. ‘Dad, come take a look at this!’ I dumped my backpack’s contents as a barricade, should either relative attempt entry, and adjusted my underwear. Dad’s face now sat above Sean’s. ‘What are you doing, son?’ ‘The Chinese guy gave it to me.’ ‘A whole cabin?’ he asked. ‘I prefer ‘Couchette B3, the B is for bling, but yes, the whole thing.’ They looked at each other, and Dad left. ‘He snores, you know,’ Sean said, watching Dad amble back. He was about to imply that we should work something out, but I pulled a quick ploy from my files. ‘Primogeniture!’ ‘What?’ He seemed perplexed. ‘It means first born, miata, right to inheritance, et cetera et al. As in born, birth, first, one, me, my berth.’ I smiled the tug-of-lip smirk of someone who’d breezed into Mensa. ‘I call it ‘heir superiority.’ You … are … with … him.’ If I was a monkey, I’d throw feces at you.’ ‘I am a cruel person. Dad screams in his sleep.’ ‘You’re a greedy, selfish, synonym … ’ ‘You are a prop in my movie.’ In the corridor, we opened the heavy window halfway and looked out onto the platform. The sunlight was creating long shadows. Commotion at the far rear of the train was still being dealt with by passengers and porters as the clock began nudging the departure time of 19:50. The Chinese official who’d welcomed us on board had shed his overcoat, brought up the stairs with an iron-levered clunk, and closed the outer door, sealing off the physical entities of Moscow. We commented on the lack of people joining us in the vestibule to bid us farewell. No matter; it was one of the proudest moments of our lives. Then, the first whisper of motion. The platform inched backwards and we gained a hint of momentum. It ran beside us as our pace quickened. The porters, the people, the commotion, and the station began falling away behind us. ‘This is our moment!’ Dad yelled, as much to the Moscovian night as to Sean and me. It was. We all held those few seconds as one would cradle an Oscar. The train’s speed picked up, the double-slips and crossovers, the whispering wheel assemblies and the ties that bind the rails, rocking the wagons side to side; my heart fell for Russia. The platform dropped off and we cheered and screamed joyous expletives out to the sea of tracks as they danced to our applause, merging and dividing from each other. Our coach official had lost his hat, rolled up his sleeves, and was now walking towards us with clanking bottles of beer, looking less and less official. ‘Beijing beer!’ he announced, passing them around liberally and rounding up an opener. He jammed a palm towards Dad. ‘Khan!’ ‘Rick. Pleased to meet you, Khan.’ ‘Sean. Nice meeting you,’ Sean said with an air of sophistication. ‘Khan!’ he repeated, turning to me. ‘Brent,’ I said, taking both his hand and the opener. ‘You are so calm!’ he tried with a gosh-gee-willikers cluck. ‘Thank you. I’m not … medicated or anything.’ ‘So calm.’ He smiled and gurgled a throatful of beer. Then, instantly, he was gone, to the other end of the coach. We figured this was to let us enjoy the ‘instant’ of leaving on a journey that had taken us so much to arrange. This was it. Moscow slowly receded into a deeply silhouetted skyline of antennaed rooftops. The quarter moon hung like a white sickle in the darkening sky. The Rossiya’s speed increased, furthering the euphoria, fuelling our excitement, and creating a fresh, sharp gust of air in the corridor. No one emerged from any of the compartments; all the doors were now closed and curiously silent. We had figured that the entire train would be crawling with people and that we’d be doing shifts to guard our baggage. I ventured out to the corridor to undertake a forensic analysis on the extremely unusual circumstance that we were alone in a coach in such a crowded train. The final room housed Khan, sitting with his feet up and smoking. A half hour before, he’d been dressed as someone who might shoot you for spite. Now he was looking cozy, as if, with all due respect, he was into his third litre of Beijing beer. ‘Brent.’ He stood, smiled like we were old friends, and bowed slightly. ‘Hey Khan, I’m sort of curious, are we alone … I mean, are we alone until Irkutsk, or is this thing gonna stop in five minutes and pick up a xenophobic mafia biker gang?’ ‘You are so calm!’ Khan said, confirming the language barrier was much, much bigger than I’d thought. Calm? I thought, what was he expecting? I moved back into the fanning breeze from the window and told Dad and Sean that we were alone, that Khan was our Chinese attendant, or fuwaren (in Russian, providnitsa), and that he was sadly on the other side of being reached with any real communication. I glanced out the window to catch a deep violet sky. In the clickity-clackity echo it grew into night, and a multitude of dazzling constellations grew from the blackness. Dad brushed his nose. ‘I just wanted to tell you: while you were fortifying your cabin against us, Sean and I ran into an Intourist official on the platform and he gave us some things to remember.’ I was open to suggestions, but neither Intourist nor their philosophy of tourism had merited much thought. Dad clucked his cheek, raised a closed fist and brought up a finger to designate the ordinal number system. ‘Watch your wallet. That means hip pack as well. Secondly,’ another parental finger appeared, ‘don’t trust anyone.’ I waited. Dad always comes in threes. ‘And thirdly, Brent, I want you to hear me … never, ever, drink with strangers … Would you mind looking at me while I’m talking to you?’ ‘I am. It’s Peripheral Day in Belarus. I’m honouring that.’ ‘Repeat them back to me,’ he said. ‘Dad!’ In adherence, I felt for my wallet as Khan staggered up from behind with another round of beers and a rosy glow on his amber cheeks. Sean came around from the nearest washroom looking like he’d just found out the truth about Santa Claus. He was shifting his eyes quickly and it was evident that something had gotten to him. ‘What happened to you in there?’ I asked. ‘Nothing … you’ll see … No nothing … OK, the Unspeakable.’ Khan waved us back to his cabin. Dad stopped us. ‘Guys,’ he was trying to slip something on us. ‘You know I can’t stand the smoking. So, Sean, here’s the deal … We allocate Brent’s temporary living quarters as the smoking place.’ Khan broke into song far off in his tiny room. Sean nodded, as did I, and that was that. Khan was in a loud crushing-of-tin falsetto, waving his arms about in a Tai Chi fashion as Sean and I shadowed his door. A small transistor radio was tuned to one of those stations that clings to the end of the dial. Khan stopped as he saw our eyes surveying his compartment. We were ushered in, urged to sit and drink another bottle of beer. For some long minutes nothing was understood, though we tried. ‘Access denied,’ ‘Syntax error,’ ‘404 error,’ his face seemed to compute. Attempts were made, and just when it seemed that the point had carried across the wire, everything broke down and we’d sip our beers and stare at his Chinese calendar pinup. Khan raised his lower bunk and withdrew a small stack of stapled papers. I glanced over as he began reading and wrapping his lips around some English phrases. They included some attendant-focused, closed-end statements that had been prepared for the unlikely event of encountering English-speaking passengers. Beneath each were the Chinese symbols, presumably telling Khan what he’d just said. ‘Herro!’ ‘Hello!’ Sean and I replied. submitted by /u/Plastic-Perception69 to r/WRXingaround [link] [comments]

I've always voted Democratic. I mainly support the party because I believe in reason and science. I'm pro choice, pro-Affordable Care Act (prefer single payer tho), pro-Keynesian economics, pro-progressive taxation, pro-unions, pro-LGBT rights, pro-social safety net, pro-gun control, pro-climate change action, etc. I'm also pro-democracy. So I want to make it clear on POLICY I have almost nothing in common with Republicans. I'm also very pro vaccines, and pro immigration but do think Biden was too lax on the border. Voted Obama, Hillary, Biden, Kamala. Downballot all Democrat. However, I HATE HATE HATE a lot of "cultural" aspects associated with liberals. For example: I HATE vegan food. I like eating animals and LOVE burgers, hot dogs, steak, prime rib, brisket, corn dogs. I HATE acai bowls and oat milk lattes and avocado sandwiches. I LOVE going to rodeos and county fairs. I think they're super fun even if most attendees are MAGA. I LOVE going to gun ranges and shooting guns as well as hunting. I still support background checks and gun control to prevent mass shootings. I LOVE southern rock and country music. Including pop country and pickup truck country. As well as a lot of "trashy" music associated with rednecks like some Kid Rock songs (All Summer Long). Line dancing is super fun. I love ROCK AND ROLL music like AC/DC, Guns N Roses, Aerosmith Dire Straits, etc. I think in the late 2010s a lot of liberals were genuine weaksauce snowflakes with getting offended by comedians, Halloween costumes, normal everyday words people used. Now the right has become way bigger snowflakes and pro cancel culture. I also hate shit like the Met Gala where everyone praises millionaire celebrities for how "woke" or "aware" their outfits are, or on celebrity speeches calling on female or LGBT representation in media. I don't care how many women, people of color, LGBT folks etc., are in a particular movie or TV show. I like bands like Creed, Nickelback, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Pantera, etc. I sometimes say the word bitch. I'm not allergic to saying the word retarded. I love shows like Yellowstone, One Tree Hill. Also, I don't hate Colleen Hoover movies and don't care if the plotlines are "problematic." I disagree with JK Rowling's views but won't stop consuming Harry Potter content because I like Harry Potter. I'll also still happily play Michael Jackson music, R Kelly, Chris Brown, or old Kanye West music. Unlike some liberals I can separate art from the artist. Also, old Dave Chapelle was fucking hilarious. I like Nikki Glaser even though her humor is edgy and offensive. And yes, I like Shane Gillis even though he's probably a conservative. I love the offensive shock humor of things like Jackass, Blazing Saddles, South Park, It's Always Sunny in Philly, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Tropic Thunder, Family Guy, etc. Liberals who get offended at things clearly meant as jokes are insufferable IMO. I find "consensual racism" in comedy fine, like Andrew Santino imitating Asian accents in front of Bobby Lee. I agree with feminists on most policy but most I've met in real life are losers in their personal lives. Incels are way fucking worse obviously. I also used to really like Bill Maher until he went to visit Trump with Kid Rock and then became semi-MAGA brained. I also DO have plenty of conservative friends, including MAGA voters. We bond over other things. I also love some Clint Eastwood movies, despite him being a Republican. The Iwo Jima ones, Million Dollar Baby. And I like some Ted Nugent songs despite him being far-right. I also like the band Megadeth despite their leader being far-right. I also like WWE, NFL, MMA. And am personally a gym rat. I also LOVE road tripping and drive a pickup truck. I LOVE NASCAR. Also, I have family in the military and respect the hell out of folks in the service. I also love America and celebrate on the 4th of july while acknowledging our flaws and strive for us to improve. I am ALSO OKAY with advertising and movies showcasing hot women in bikinis (hot shirtless men is okay too), I don't care about ideas that it's problematic. I'm totally okay with objectifying and sexualizing men and women in pop culture. I think a lot of feminists take offense too easily and minor things. I have more than once gone to a strip club and enjoyed my time there. So are all of these things a-ok? Am I still welcome in the liberal tent? submitted by /u/Tiny_Transition3990 to r/AskALiberal [link] [comments]

As we are all suffering from Beyhydration currently, I have prepared a BeyHive quiz covering all of Bey’s eras from DC to CC 🐝 I tried to make the questions not too hard and not too easy - this is Just For Fun! 🤠 Feel free to post your scores out of 50 Destiny’s Child 1992-2005 In the Say My Name video, what colour room was Beyoncé’s? What was the first DC video directed by Beyoncé? Name one of the original Girls Tyme members other than Beyoncé and Kelly. Name the DC song from the lyric: “All them lies like you could satisfy me” What was DC’s highest selling single? Dangerously In Love 2003-2004 1. What was the original title of Crazy In Love? 2. Beyoncé wears a pair of jeans on the album cover, whose jeans were they? 3. Name one category that Dangerously In Love won a Grammy in. 4. At which event did Beyoncé first perform with Jay-Z? 5. What was the first song on Beyoncé’s set list on the Verizon Ladies First Tour? B’Day 2006-2007 1. What is Mission Five in Get Me Bodied? 2. How long did it take for B’Day to be produced and recorded? 3. In which city was the Green Light video shot? 4. How many different outfits does Beyoncé wear in the Déja Vu video? 5. Which song follows Speechless on the Beyoncé Experience Tour set list? I Am… Sasha Fierce 2008-2010 1. What was the shape of the screen on the I Am World Tour? 2. What is track 10? 3. What colour is the telephone in the Why Don’t You Love Me video? 4. Name the song from the lyric: “you might just as well be blind” 5. How many times does Beyoncé sing “halo” in Halo? 4 2011-2012 1. How many key changes are in the final chorus of Love On Top? 2. Which song opened the 4 Intimate Nights performances? 3. How many continents did the Mrs Carter Tour visit? 4. Which significant event happened during the album’s cover shoot? 5. What colour is Beyoncé’s dress in the Dance For You video? BEYONCÉ 2013-2014 1. Which album track was NOT performed during the VMA Vanguard performance? 2. Which song did not receive an official release until 2023? 3. Which song was supposed to be the lead single before it was cancelled in favour of XO? 4. Which artist is sampled in Flawless Remix? 5. How many tracks are on the full Platinum Edition? Lemonade 2016-2017 1. How many videos does Blue Ivy appear in? 2. How many acts were in the Formation World Tour? 3. What was the first city of the Formation World Tour? 4. “Here lies the body of the love of my life” is spoken in which video? 5. Name an album track that was performed at the VMAs Lemonade Medley. Homecoming/The Gift 2018-2019 1. How many songs were performed on the Coachella setlist? 2. Which guest appearance was not included in the Homecoming Netflix special? 3. How many different outfits were worn during the set (each night)? 4. Which Grammy did Black Parade win? 5. Name a song from The Gift Deluxe Edition that Beyoncé does NOT sing on. Renaissance 2022-2023 1. What is the last colour listed in Cozy? 2. What is the first non-Renaissance song performed in the Renaissance World Tour setlist (not including opening act)? 3. Which song on the Renaissance World Tour teases Freakum Dress? 4. In which city was the Alien Superstar malfunction? 5. Name the song from the lyric: “got you walking with a limp, bet this body make you dance” Cowboy Carter 2024-2025 1. Who describes Cowboy Carter as a “unique listening experience” on the album? 2. How can you pay to see the rodeo in Desert Eagle? 3. Which is the longest track on the album? 4. How many shows were there on the Cowboy Carter tour? 5. Name a song that did not receive an alternate outfit on the Cowboy Carter Tour. Answers Destiny’s Child 1. Orange 2. Nasty Girl 3. LaTavia Roberson, Tamar Davis, Nikki Taylor, Nina Taylor, LeToya Luckett 4. Lose My Breath 5. Independent Women Part I Dangerously In Love 1. Crazy Right Now 2. The photographer’s 3. Best Contemporary R&B Album 4. 2003 VMAs 5. Baby Boy B’Day 1. Skip to the front of the line 2. 6 weeks 3. Los Angeles 4. 10 5. Ring The Alarm I Am… Sasha Fierce 1. Diamond 2. That’s Why You’re Beautiful 3. Blue 4. Honesty 5. 69 4 1. 4 2. 1+1 3. 5 4. Conception of Blue Ivy 5. Blue (trick question as video is B+W) BEYONCÉ 1. Heaven 2. Grown Woman 3. Blow 4. OutKast 5. 20 Lemonade 1. 2 - Formation and All Night 2. 6 3. Miami 4. Sorry 5. Pray You Catch Me, Hold Up, Sorry, Don’t Hurt Yourself, Formation Homecoming/The Gift 1. 33 2. J Balvin on Mi Gente 3. 5 4. Best R&B Performance 5. Don’t Jealous Me, Ja Ara E, Keys To The Kingdom, Scar Renaissance 1. Yellow 2. Formation 3. Before I Let Go 4. Glendale, Arizona 5. Summer Renaissance Cowboy Carter 1. Linda Martell 2. Cash App 3. II Hands II Heaven 4. 32 5. America Has A Problem, Spaghettii, Formation, My House, Diva submitted by /u/diamond1407 to r/beyonce [link] [comments]

My mind is in the gutter submitted by /u/Miserable_Life_9650 to r/AmazonVine [link] [comments]

First | Prev | Next | ToC Early 2674, Acquired Coordinates Captain O'Brian, Raptor Team AEU It was cramped and quiet, but all present within the ship shared silent contemplation of the moments to come. Their heads were level, but a single red light cast a heavy shadow down on their visors, creating an image of angry spirits in need of souls to reap. For they saw themselves as the vengeful ghosts of the Dema and Draxis colonies. Rising from his seat, eyes from his subordinates followed. “Listen up,” he began. He raised his wrist level to his chest as a holographic bust of their target appeared. “This is our target, Gresha Vorb. He’s designated as a priority one extract, and anyone acting as armed protection is considered hostile, so neutralize them with extreme prejudice in accordance with the Slayer Protocol. We suspect he’s a top trader in sentient goods, so expect there to be a civilian presence. Mission is simple: raise hell, extract intel.” He looked around at those who sat in silence and continued. “Athena will get intel on enemy troops to update your IFF targeting HUD in real-time. So, if they’re flagged, they’re dead.” A small chuckle erupted from his team at his poor attempt at a joke to lighten their mood. It appeared successful as small murmurs began between one another amidst the rumble and hum of the ship. He returned to his seat when he felt a small nudge beside him. It was Vorta, and along with her were the other Sellians that embarked with them for the mission. They were nervous within all reason, and it was simple; they were headed into a battlefield for the first time in their lives. Vorta sought to have him alleviate their concerns. They were donned in a similar outfit as the sailors, each wearing a dark grey suit with dark blue accented trim. The males donned a shorter waist cover than the females, with their ensign insignia stitched on their arms. Like Vorta, they wore modified chest armor and helmets rated for vacuum but offered little in the way of ballistic protection. Even with the movement of the ship, it was obvious that they were out of their element, seemingly tossed from the comfort of their ship and into fire. Even with their gear, they were only equipped with a single service pistol with only one magazine in reserve. He stood before them, his large form overshadowing them as he eclipsed the only light source in the compartment, and spoke. “I know this will be your first rodeo, but you’re not tasked with taking lives, got it?” They nodded. “LZ’s gonna’ be hot, but when we secure it, you’ll be tasked with calming any civilians we rescue. From our intel, there’s plenty of slaves that are Sellian in origin. It’ll do ‘em good to see a friendly face. Don’t worry, you’ll have security so you only have to worry about organizing whoever we send until we secure a better way to transport ‘em.” He looked at each of them before attempting to return to his seat, waiting to see if they had any questions. A meek reply was sounded, scared to raise their voice any louder for fear of public embarrassment. Looking around, no one paid him heed for the simple fact that they had other things on their minds than to deal with extra cargo. “C-captain, sir. If I may…” One individual raised his hand in a shy and weak manner but continued. “This is my, I mean our, first time in combat… W-will we be enough?” “We’re enough. We’ll get reinforcements, and by that time we should have secured a portion of the station. Follow V’s lead, and you’ll be alright.” “—V?” O'Brian finished and returned to his seat when a call erupted from their pilot, Prowler-One. “Sir, we’re nearing the LZ. It seems like the target wasn’t expecting us. Looks open to traffic.” “Anything on radar?” “Negative. Emissions are masked, but I expect heavy resistance on landing,” replied the pilot. “Hang on!” O'Brian then felt a rise in his stomach as sudden G-forces acted on his body in a rising motion, indicating that their pilot had taken a nose dive. Followed by his body pulling to the rear of the ship telling him that he also accelerated towards their destination. Following their maneuver, a muffled voice rang out from the direction of the cockpit, just barely picked up by his helmet’s sound enhancement module. But that’s all it ended up being until clarity rang out in his ear as the red light turned green and the side doors to the craft flew open, revealing the exterior. It was ornately designed, and large enough for even a larger framed corvette. Even envisioning the Hawk within the space, it seemed little more than a small vehicle set before a large hill. But before he could fully grasp the interior of the hangar, a call rang out from Prowler-One “Raptor! Step off!” he yelled as his helmet’s sound dampening system worked over time to the countless cracks of bullets being launched from their ship. It was a single gimbled gatling gun attached beneath the nose of the craft, and wherever the pilot looked, so did the gun. It continued to fire until the barrels began to glow red before coming to a stop with a metallic ‘clink’. “Gun is on cool down, move it sir!” Without question or hesitation, he turned to his team with a single order while holding back their Sellian allies. “RAIDERS—MOVE!!!” “OO-RAH—!" they yelled they rallying cry in unison, with each person having a variation to yell as they disembarked with return fire from the enemy, or what remained. When his men began pushing forward, O'Brian stepped off with the Sellians, safe from the workings of the ship as it lifted off toward the entrance. With it gone, he was able to assess the situation more clearly than when he was on the ship. The hangar they found themselves in was indeed large and ornately designed with polished marble inlaid with gold and silver. As for their landing area, boxes were littered in moderately organized fashion with a large clearing reserved for a larger ship in which his team currently fought from. Leading from the clearing, a collection of smaller ships previously situated in neat order led further into the hangar toward their exit. All of which were now reduced to a pile of smoke, flames and debris. “Gotta hand it to Prowler—he doesn’t hold back. I love that side of him...” mumbled O'Brian. He then gripped his suppressed Series IV ‘Badger’ rifle and checked its chamber for a live round before turning to Vorta and her colleagues with a commanding air. “Stay here. Lance Corporal Carmine and DeLuna will pull security. Whatever you need, they’re yours to use, but in combat, you listen to them. Clear?” The nodded in compliance as their security were pulled from the front lines. After telling them their new orders, visible frustration was seen through their body language. It was clear they wanted to get into the action but were instead forced to watch over what were essentially civilians in a combat zone. But their commanding officer’s word was law, and they had no choice but to obey. Securing his rear, O'Brian pushed forward with the rest of his team for a total of eleven Raiders. They were beyond the threshold of large crates that previously separated the smaller craft from their landing zone, but instead of the tall frames of what he would have likened to elegant and exotic craft, were nothing but charred metal. They held a line against the enemy, but smoke obscured their sight and the enemy was too far for their IFF HUD to paint targets for easier acquisition. He was already planning for a way to circumvent the smoke and turned to Strega to issue his order. But before he could say a word, she fired her under-barrel launcher in a wide arc towards the enemy as his troops slowed their firing. At first there was silence, but a pulse from the device created a sphere from its origin, and any caught in the radius was outlined in red. For his team, that was all they needed. The next moment, concentrated fire erupted from their line, and one-by-one the targets fell, clueless to their sudden deaths. Seeing their moment, O'Brian took charge and motioned them forward in a flanking charge; taking half of their right flank towards the enemy. Strega, on the left flank, continued to offer battlefield knowledge with another set of pulse sensors in locations she didn’t hit before, illuminating the enemy. Those standing were assumed to be free from cover, and fell victim to practiced shots from his men as the bullet zipped through the smoke, creating a vortex from where it passed and the shooter nowhere to be seen. It was as if death was making the shot. The others were seen crouched behind cover, unlike their fallen brothers. Before they could realize what had happened, O'Brian and his team rounded the wreckage of a small ship. They found themselves in flanking view of the enemy who were still occupied in the direction of the smoke, unknown to their maneuver. Without a moment’s waste, he signaled their execution with a wave of his fingers. A series of cracks traced towards their unsuspecting enemy, finding their shots lodged into the heads and torsos of their enemy. When the last one fell, O'Brian motioned for a select few to secure the entrance as he rallied the rest of the team to his position beside the hangar’s entrance. The fighting died with their resistance, and he was able to assess the area with more clarity now that they were no longer in combat. Aside from the spacecraft debris and cargo, he only seemed to find hostile forces, and none of the civilians he expected. That was until Strega pointed his attention to several of the destroyed ships. “Collateral, sir. Looks like most ran towards the entrance when we arrived, but when Prowler fired, they couldn’t get to cover,” she said solemnly. He shared a moment of silence before replying. “We’re going to push the entrance, but half will need to secure the LZ until reinforcement arrive. I need control of our corridors for when we start sending civilians here. At least a pair on every corner to control flow of civilians, with each previous team insight of the next. We have to do this fast and efficient. We don’t have the manpower like before—but that’s exactly why they send us!” His Raiders cried in unison as they collected near sides of the entrance and away from a direct line of fire. The doors were closed, but with Strega’s tampering and Athena’s assistance, they were able to prep their entrance on his order. With Athena’s aid, he ordered for a short-wave ping that extended beyond their suit’s calibrated capabilities. However, due to its high energy draw, it was prone to overheating, even with updated firmware and processing. But for now, it was enough. From the ping, IFF tags illuminated beyond the large doors and into the next space, revealing the large rotund shapes of enemies past; the Toskans. Beside them, slimmer figures were outlined in red before their larger counterparts, causing O'Brian to halt his push and convene with his AI companion. “Athena, what’re your parameters for hostile IFF tags?” With little pause, she answered, “By separation of friendly transponders from non-archived entities. Standard protocol dictates that IFF signatures of TRSC troops are to be uploaded before-hand, and potential enemy combatants are identified by field intelligence, movement, and arms.” He was well versed in identification technologies for ground troops, with most instances separated from friendly forces transponders that tell them they are indeed friendly, and the enemy. Whereas the latter was normally identified by troops on the ground whether they were an actual threat or not. Unfortunately in the past, the two were easy to overlap and there were cases of civilians being mistaken as combatants. He wanted to avoid that at all cost. “How do you ping? What type of frequency is it?” Silence followed, if not by her bout of confusion to his query, but answered regardless. “Active pings are issued from varying electromagnetic and radio waves as allowed by your helmet... What are you asking for, Captain?” He paused as he began to think. With those two signals, his suit was able to ascertain individuals at varying degrees within a limited radius while also serving as a highway for encrypted comms. But his focus shifted towards the other signal; electromagnetism. He knew of the many applications of it, but wished to see how he could use it here, but he didn’t know how or for what. “What uses electromagnets,” he asked aloud, catching his team off guard, forcing them to make a curious glare. But they could see that he was serious, and several answered. “Tech?” sounded one. “MACs?” sounded a second. “Ships? They use electricity, right?” sounded another with a thud meeting his helmet. “Hospital scans?” replied Badgers, causing O'Brian pause. “Hospital...scans?” he muttered in reply as his thoughts began to turn. “Yessir. Got checked after manning that the gun run over Artray for concussion trauma. Held onto a device that zapped me. Said I didn’t drink enough water but—” O'Brian held a hand, halting Badgers from continuing, but quickly apologized for the act. There were a plethora of medical tools that could detect compositions of the human body for more than just tissue and organs, but muscle density and even diseases. Of course, with sensitive technology like that, it would be too large to use in his setting. But now, figured he had the workings of a solution. “Athena, when sensors were active aboard the dropship, where you able to detect biological anomalies of Vorta and her team compared to our own?” She paused for a moment before returning with an answer. “It would appear their race does operate with an internal frequency different from your own. So much so that the difference can be isolated and identified even at this range, but the doors inhibit any further analysis.” With haste, O'Brian called to Vorta, who came running to his call as her small steps sounded through the hangar. Out of breath, she took her place beside him curiously. After several minutes, Athena spoke with a mysterious cadence, but heeded no mind to it. “...This seems to be taking too long to analyze remotely. You need to make contact with Ensign Volkala. Preferably the nape of her neck.” “Her… neck?” he said softly and confused. “That’s right. There’s a large collection of nerves that transmit the signal, and it would help aid in the collection. It would allow for me to further isolate Sellians from Terran frequency and prevent clutter, if you will.” “Hrrhm,” he grumbled frustratingly, but ordered her to do so, which she shyly complied. With her helmet removed, her pomegranate-colored eyes peered at him nervously as his hand hovered behind her head, mere millimeters from touching her skin. “This close enough?” he said frustratingly. But Athena beckoned that he get closer otherwise it wouldn’t work. He did as she reiterated, clasping his hand against the nape of her neck, weaving his fingers through locks of hair and naturally placed his thumb behind her right ear; a motion he unknowingly did naturally. After several seconds, Athena confirmed the update, allowing him to return to his duties. “Sorry, V…” He apologized. “N-no, it was for the m-mission right? I’ll, uh, go back to the group...” she said, trailing off before passing Strega gave her a friendly pat on her back as she returned to their landing zone. O'Brian returned his focus as real-time updates to their HUD populated as periodic pulses erupted from his helmet. With each major pulse, it slowly warmed the internals of the helmet, but this time, it was manageable compared to when she first did something like this. Where there was once an all-red force, was now divided between the red, orange, and yellow. Athena then explained their update. “It’s crude, but I have successfully determined proper IFF target parameters by weapon, transponder, biological signatures. However, this will only work in conjunction with portable Pulse Scanner equipment or by overloading your suit’s command sensor suite.” “We can arrange that later. Raiders, prepare breach!” They reclaimed their professional bearing upon his orders and stacked full the sides of the entrance with flash grenades at the ready, and their HUD up-to-date. Seeing their form and preparedness, he ordered their advance. “BREACH, BREACH, BREACH!!!” With a sudden whir, the doors slid open followed by the tossing of grenades. Only seconds passed by as several loud pops reverberated from the space, marking their signal to enter with swift lethality. From the smoke that perforated the air before them, the outlines from their HUD made clear their targets, and in quick succession, saw the quick execution of those flagged red. They were less disoriented, as several of the Toskan Guards wore helmets, but the same couldn’t be said for the Sellian civilians who held their hands close to their ears to stop the inevitable ringing. By then, they had already dropped their weapons by the grenades effect and where subdued for their protection while other Raiders secured their flanks. He took a moment to look upon them in detail and found most were women of Sellian origin and malnourished males. There was a dead look within their eyes even after recovering from the effects of their offense, but slowly gained light as hope returned to them in the form of unknown warriors. They were over joyed, shedding tears on the shoulders of soldiers they knew nothing about, only that their actions provided them a comfort in the destruction of their perpetrators. For them, that was enough to regain the life that was lost. Before they could even settle in their new ring of safety, gunfire rang out from the left passage, causing those not firing to cover the Sellians with their armor. To force them to move, Badgers called to the Raiders sheltering the Sellians. “Dammit! Don’t sit there, get them to the LZ! Move it!” he yelled broadly as he began to return fire. “You heard him, let’s move!” replied another Raider as he and several others shuffled the civilians amidst the gunfight. If not for their cover fire, it was likely they would have all become targets, but Badgers and his partner prevented that. During O'Brian’s retaliation, a call came through his communications. It was Dare and he had arrived with reinforcements, as heard by the reverberating scream of the dropship’s engines. Knowing how much they had to push through, he relayed his intention to Dare and the other sergeants of his platoon. They had plenty of ground to cover, but not enough people to conduct an entire sweep. As such, they had to be selective and trust in their skills and training. It was why he began to form a new plan to maximize troop movement and support. He relayed it as such, forcing half of his platoon on corner duty while the other half would fulfill a Raider’s true calling. “Get me six fireteams for search and destroy mission.” He ordered. As the fighting died down and they were slowly reinforced, O'Brian got his fireteams, sending each four-man squad on a kill mission throughout the palace. It was their most efficient formation, and they were ecstatic to do so. With each led by at least one veteran-marked Raider, they were destined to complete their mission, or die trying. With that thought alone, a Raider could accomplish the worst of tasks with a smile on their face. Thus, they set forth and reports from the teams came in, detailing the increasing number of foes falling to every pull of their trigger. In addition, packs of civilians followed the trail of Raiders left at major turns to the large hangar in desperation of joy. However, there were no humans among the packs running to safety. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, O'Brian prepared to depart into the heart of the enemy, but not without a team of his own. Looking nearby, he spotted three individuals perfect to join him. “Badgers, Fox; on me.” He then turned to Strega who supported a nearby firing arc. “Strega. I need you and Dare to search for a console and siphon what intel you can. Athena can help where you need her. I need manifests, routes, planets, everything. And find a nearby dock for our ships to provide support. Copy?” “Copy,” she replied as they stepped off towards the enemy, unknown what might lurk beyond their defenses. But as they left to fulfill their mission, O'Brian received an encrypted call from the friends in the dark. “Raptor, Mamba. How copy?” It was the voice of a young man new to authority and command, but had earned his respect for the duties they undertook. “Mamba, Raptor. LZ is clear for civilian rendezvous. I have fireteams sweeping the area for hostiles and routing all civilians for extract. Send coordinates.” “No need, Captain,” replied the young man. “We have intel on the target that we nabbed from a console. Sending cords...” Raising his wrist, a hologram of the station’s layout revealed itself with bright line navigating to a location deep in the heart of the palace, with Mamba Team located opposite of them on the far side of the station. By the time they reach it, both would arrive approximately at the same time. “Received. Meet you there,” he replied before turning to Badgers and Fox. “We got intel, gents. It’s time to move.” First | Prev | Next | ToC submitted by /u/VexTrooper to r/TerranContact [link] [comments]

So, let me start this off by explaining a little. My husband runs a rentable mechanical bull for events. We have a huge street fair coming up next week and I'm going along to help, as it is a pay-per-ride event and he's asked for my help to get people paid, signed, and lined. I'd really like to dress the part this year (been at it for 3 years now) to draw some attention to get more people interested. I've looked at "women's rodeo outfits" on Amazon and I'm just not thrilled by anything. Too much bling, not enough Beth Dutton, if you know what I mean. More boho, less bougie. Probably looking to buy from Amazon since the event is a week from today. I think what I'm struggling with most in terms of fit is that I have essentially no hips, but I'm large chested. I don't want anything to draw more attention to my non existing bottom half and a lot of the cute shorts I see just won't work for my figure. I'm also looking for something for hot weather, but no crop tops as I have a small mom pouch (I'll thank my four kids later). Not afraid of fringe, but just not too much. No "bad words" as it is a family event - as much as I want to wear the "howdy b*tch" shirts I've seen, I know I shouldn't 😂 I do have boots and a hat, but would be open to a new cowboy hat as mine is heavy felt and very hot. Please send help. 🙃 submitted by /u/TheBishFish94 to r/fashionhelp [link] [comments]

Came across this one in the wild. It’s referring to the broken boots line dancing trend happening. It’s a cute little dance and most of the girls who do it wear cute ass outfits and just dance for a few seconds. They’re happy! In their element! Having fun! But apparently it’s too much to handle for this one. Scrolled her page and saw that the real reason she’s being a hater is because she’s a rodeo girl and buckle bunny (girl who likes rodeo dudes/dudes with trophy belt buckles from rodeos) and most likely tried the trend and failed lmfao. Thankfully the comments were telling her she’d survive and to get over it and stuff, but then she posted that second one about not being a “girls girl” and tried to blame other women for it lmfao. I wonder if anyone’s picked her yet. 🤔 Guessing old girl doesn’t have many friends. submitted by /u/AccomplishedTaste147 to r/notliketheothergirls [link] [comments]

The long comment is mine trying to explain to her why what she posted is very problematic and that she has some internalized misogyny to work on. I tried to be as civil as possible, but inside I really just wanted to comment “did anyone pick you yet?” Honestly more disappointed than mad about it because I thought this lady was better than this. She recently lost her husband to cancer and found a new guy that she’s already married to, so why should she even be worried about what other girls dress like? Must be insecurity at its finest. submitted by /u/AccomplishedTaste147 to r/notliketheothergirls [link] [comments]

I can't believe the overwhelming response I got from everyone at this sub reddit on my Halloween costume this year. Thank you all so much. I promised in my remarks that I would give you all an update about how my day went, so let me start at the very beginning. I got up around 4 o'clock this morning and had all my clothes laid out from the night before. I took a quick shower, had a close shave, dried myself off, came out, and put on my foundation garments, and padding. My outfit included a Rago hi-waist girdle, a longline bra, hip pads, breast forms, and pantyhose. I put on my robe and sat down at my makeup table to start my transformation. The makeup application took about 45 minutes. After that, I put on my teal suit, clipped on my earrings, donned a small necklace, a faux engagement ring, bracelet, Press-on nails provided a French tip manicure, and a dab of perfume behind my ears and behind each knee. Next, I put on my wig, which I had styled the night before, and added some finishing touches. Finally, I slipped into a pair of mid-heel black pumps. As I stood before the mirror, I could hardly believe the person looking back at me. I decided to borrow a raincoat from my wife, which turned out to be not only practical but also fashionable. It added a playful twist to my outfit. I wrapped a white scarf around my neck, giving the ensemble an elegant touch. Now, for my accessories, I had a Tory Burch purse that matched my shoes. It was like a fashion match made in heaven. But that wasn't all; I also had a trendy Burberry laptop case in hand, which added a hint of sophistication to my appearance. Carrying these stylish accessories made me feel like I was ready to conquer the world. As I stepped outside and crossed the driveway, my heels clicked gloriously with every step. It was a sound of confidence, a playful rhythm that accompanied me on my adventure. I couldn't help but wonder what the neighbors might think if they caught a glimpse of me. Maybe they'd find it amusing, or perhaps they'd admire my sense of style and daring spirit. Making a pit stop at Dunkin' Donuts for my morning cup of coffee at the drive-thru was a delightful experience. The lady who had taken care of me for the last three years didn't recognize me at all. When I playfully asked her if she recognized me, you could see the shock on her face. It was like a scene from a hidden camera show! This would be just the beginning of many such interactions throughout the day. It was like I had a secret identity, and the joy of seeing people's surprised reactions was absolutely priceless. I couldn't help but chuckle at the playful mystery I'd created. Each encounter was a chance to spread smiles, laughter, and a little bit of surprise. It was fun to watch people's faces light up with amazement, and it made me appreciate the power of self-expression even more. What a cute and fun adventure I was having, taking people by surprise and sharing some unexpected joy in the process! As I sat in my usual parking spot outside my 14-story office building, I couldn't help but notice that no one else seemed to be in a Halloween costume. A hint of nervousness crept in, but I knew I had to keep my confidence high. So, I took a moment to mentally coach myself. In my mind's eye, I transformed into Paula, the accomplished businesswoman who was nothing short of confident and ready. I could feel the transformation from the inside out, embodying her strength and poise. With a deep breath and unwavering determination, I stepped out of the car and embraced the role of Paula. As the door of the car closed behind me, I left behind any lingering doubts and walked towards the building, ready to face the day. As I strolled off the elevator, I couldn't help but offer a warm greeting to Dave, the familiar guard at the front desk. Dave had been a constant presence for years, and he knew me well. "Good morning, Dave," I said, flashing a friendly smile. In response, he growled an indifferent "Good morning" in return. It was apparent he didn’t know what was beneath the hidden layers of my outfit. I walked to my desk, hung up my coat, and then realized that my hair and makeup needed a touch-up. I also had to use the restroom. So, I entered the men's restroom, found an available stall, and took care of my business. Standing in front of the mirror, I began to comb my hair and apply lipstick. It was in this moment that a colleague walked in, and his initial reaction was one of visible confusion. He thought he might have walked into the wrong restroom. With a deep voice, I reassured him that he was in the right place. The look of bewilderment on his face quickly turned into a warm understanding as I greeted him with a cheerful "Happy Halloween." It was a simple yet effective way to diffuse any potential controversy and share the festive spirit of the day. The coffee room, as it turns out, is the heart of corporate social circles, and I was determined to fully embrace my role as Paula, the middle-aged, married woman and software engineer. Like a method actor, I had wholeheartedly assumed this delightful identity, and I was absolutely ready to dive into the world. With a confident stride, I entered the bustling coffee room. It was like stepping onto a stage where I had the opportunity to play a new character, and I was ready to give the performance of a lifetime. I greeted my colleagues with a warm smile and exchanged laughter and conversation, The reactions from the women at the office were nothing short of heartwarming and filled with delightful surprises. You see, in my usual day-to-day work life, I present as a nerdy older man, often sporting Dockers and collared shirts. So, when they saw me in my teal suit, it was indeed a revelation. The women's responses were a mix of amazement and genuine curiosity. They couldn't help but express their astonishment at the complete transformation I had undergone. I vividly remember a few specific comments and questions, one of my female colleagues remarked, "Wow, you look absolutely stunning! How did you do your makeup so flawlessly?" Another asked, "How do you feel wearing those clothes? You seem so confident and comfortable!" There were numerous inquiries about the heels, with one woman saying, "Walking in those heels must be a challenge, but you make it look effortless!" The atmosphere was filled with positive energy, laughter, and a sense of camaraderie. It was clear that my Halloween costume had sparked genuine curiosity and admiration, and I cherished every lighthearted moment of these interactions with my female colleagues. Their support and enthusiasm made the day all the more enjoyable and memorable. The men's reactions, well, those were a bit of a mixed bag. Some of them seemed like they didn't quite know how to react, and they adopted an aloof, slightly bewildered stance. You could almost see the wheels turning in their heads, wondering, "Is this for real?" However, most of the guys, were surprisingly supportive and found humor in the whole situation. They were visibly taken aback but decided to roll with the punches. A few brave souls even took a keen interest in my transformation process. They approached me with that inquisitive look in their eyes, asking, "How did you pull this off, and why on earth did you decide to do this?" It was incredibly fun to share my story with them, to see their genuine curiosity, and to witness their minds open to a new perspective. Explaining the makeup, the outfit, and the whole "Paula" persona was like taking them on a wild and enlightening ride through my Halloween adventure. Throughout the day, I couldn't help but notice that people seemed to make pit stops at my cubicle more often than usual. It was like I had become the office's unofficial attraction, and folks couldn't resist a peek at the remodeled "Paula." And then there was that one guy who seemed to have taken a few more laps around the office than necessary. I couldn't help but chuckle at his persistence. It was my momentary glimpse into the world of what women sometimes experience with unwarranted attention, and it provided a fascinating twist to my day. A conversation with my manager, a woman my age, was the most remarkable and emotionally charged moment of the day. She was not only a sharp and capable manager but also remarkably people-oriented and amiable. We had started our meeting by reviewing the budget for the upcoming year, but it soon meandered into a casual conversation, ultimately leading to a topic that would touch my heart deeply. As the conversation transitioned to my outfit and then fashion and accessories, my excitement couldn't be contained. I eagerly shared the details of the Tory Burch purse I was proudly carrying that day. She looked at me with a smile and a mix of curiosity and admiration and made a statement that sounded more like a question, "Wow, you really know a lot about fashion and style?" Her words hung in the air, and the anticipation of her next response made my heart race. With a bashful smile, I confessed, "This isn't my first time to the rodeo." The room was filled with a certain vulnerability, as I exposed a part of my life and identity that I hadn't shared at work. The moment was both exciting and terrifying. Then, her response came, and it was a revelation. She looked me in the eye and told me that if pursuing this was something I wanted to do, I had her full support personally and at work. It was a statement that filled my heart with warmth and gratitude. I told her that it meant the world to be open and honest with her about this aspect of my life, and to know that the door was open, even if for family reasons, this wasn't the right time. The mix of emotions, from the angst of revealing my true self to the friendship and acceptance that she showed, made this conversation one of the most significant moments of the day. On the way home I decided to make a quick pit stop at Walgreens for some last-minute Halloween candy. On my way into the store, I had an unexpected encounter with my brother's boss. He politely held the door open for me, and I couldn't help but offer a demure "thank you." I mean, what else was I going to say, right? My brother works with a very tough crowd, and it was best to stay unrecognized. It was a situation that had a hint of humor, like a little plot twist in my day. The trip into Walgreens was as uneventful as it gets when it comes to candy runs, but there was a growing realization that was both entertaining and amusing. As I walked the aisles and moved gracefully in my heels and skirt, it felt like second nature. Carrying a purse had also become surprisingly comfortable. It was like I had stepped into the shoes (quite literally) of a different persona for the day, and by the time I was in Walgreens, the transition was so seamless that it was entertaining even to me. When I finally arrived home, I was more than ready to cast aside the heels, pantyhose, girdle, and bra that by now were making their presence known. But my wife, perhaps with the intention of broadening my understanding of womanhood, had different plans. She insisted that I stay dressed for the trick-or-treaters who would be visiting that evening. So, I donned an apron and swapped the heels for comfy slippers. We worked together to get dinner on the table, embracing this unique twist on our evening routine. It was an experience that allowed me to appreciate the daily efforts and challenges faced by many women. As the hours passed, I couldn't help but count down the minutes until I could, with great relief, shed my temporary identity of femininity. Finally, at 10:00 PM, I made my way to the shower. It was a moment of liberation, as I let the layers of my Halloween transformation fall away and rolled back into the comfort of cotton PJ’s and yes, they were boy pajamas. It was a Halloween I will cherish forever, a day that has left an indelible mark on my heart. That morning, I had embarked on a journey of self-discovery, embracing the role of Paula, who represented authenticity, strength, and grace. Throughout the day, I was met with a myriad of reactions, each one shaping the path of my growth. The women at the office, with their supportive and curious demeanor, allowed me to share my story and indulge in my love for fashion and style. Their laughter and amazement echoed with acceptance and sisterhood. The men, though some struggled to understand, ultimately added humor and camaraderie to my adventure. Their curiosity became an avenue to spread understanding and acceptance, one conversation at a time. But it was the conversation with my manager, filled with empathy and support, that truly touched my heart. Her acknowledgment of my identity, and her offer of unwavering support, was a moment of deep connection that resonated within me. As the clock inched toward midnight, exhaustion settled in, and I sank into my chair, my feet aching from the unfamiliar weight of heels worn throughout the day. With a sense of immense relief, I had finally unfastened my bra and peeled off the girdle. The day had been nothing short of a dreamlike, fantastic adventure. But as the makeup was gently wiped away and the jewelry stowed, I couldn't help but ponder the reality that countless working women face each and every day. The notion of having to rise early, and again put on the mask of makeup, style their hair, select the right outfit, and manage the many responsibilities of family and home. I put myself in the shoes of these incredible women, who, after a long day's work, often have another equally demanding shift awaiting them at home. Children to care for, a household to manage, and a husband who requires attention. It was a humbling realization. I had seen, tasted, and felt just a sliver of what they go through, and I understood the depth of their strength and resilience. Ultimately, I've come to a deep understanding of the incredible strength and resilience that women possess, and it's a realization that fills my heart with profound admiration and respect. submitted by /u/poonch_key to r/oldhagfashion [link] [comments]

Just got back from a rare venture outside into the world and wanted to share my outfit as I worked hard cobbling it together for the last few days! (I'm Joey, he/they please~ 🩷🤍💙) I was originally going to make Ken's Western-Cowboy-Rodeo-Outfit (but with Barbie's bedazzled flares) but my online fabric order was out of stock. OTL Then I decided that I'd make the pink suit for the young 50's Elvis from the Elvis movie. It's kinda zoot suit-esque in fit but it's still got all that ✨Western flair✨ (and it's pink!). When I was looking up photos of the suit I discovered the replica Nudie Suit they made for Hank Snow's character in the movie and that sent me down the rabbit hole for Nudie Cohn's absolutely incredible hand-embroidered, rhinestone-encrusted designs. 🤩🤩🤩 That settled it. I was gonna make a Nudie Suit! The only problem: I don't actually own a whole suit. Thus, I headed to the thrift store to see if I could cobble together some kind of suit. I did not find a suit. I did find a stunning 100% linen, chartreuse green vest(/top/thing) trouser set by Lá Rea Collection. I initially planned to just re-fit the trousers and upcycle the vest-top-thingy into a waistcoat or maaaaaybe a small jacket— I am a tiny person so there was hope to be had, especially as I apparently cannot read the tags well when thrifting (to be fair to myself, it is a rather small print). I had to completely re-size the trousers (/cough more like fully tailor /cough 😭). I ran out of time (I thrifted this on Sunday) and didn't finish the waistcoat, alas. I also added side seam pockets and back welt pockets bc no pockets in trousers should be a crime!!! 😤 The blouse is thrifted, too (originally by Target as part of their Black History Month collection though I'm unsure from what year)— one rack over from the suits on the same day! 🤯 The centers of the flowers are the exact same color as the suit set! I was gobsmacked. Truly the one and only time the Thrifting Gods have smiled down upon me!!! The funky shoulder bit is me stuffing the sleeves into the compression top I'm wearing underneath (bind safely & comfortably, folks!) because otherwise it was also too big. I did read the size tag correctly for it, but I guess it's meant to be very loose fitting? Cue clothing sizes are a myth rant here... (at least in "women's" clothes!) 😮‍💨 The bandana/handkerchief and suspenders/braces I also thrifted and I'm so, so happy with them. 💖💕🌟 (Especially the suspenders/braces! Here I come fishtail trousers!!) I've been wearing the bandanas/handkerchiefs in nearly every outfit recently— I should really share those with y'all, too. It's thanks to y'all's warm feedback on my first post here that has really encouraged me to lean more heavily into the Western/Cowboy/Rodeo aesthetic that I've loved for a long time that sent me down this journey and I thought y'all deserved to see the culmination of that experimentation in this outfit! 🥰❤️💖💗💕🩷💓💟💘💝💞 OH! I nearly forgot but I repainted the boots to this blue (they were originally a light brown). They were in need of some serious TLC. Please ignore the dirt on them from walking to the event venue. 😅 (My hat is a vintage blue wool Stetson that I bought second hand and have had for several years now.) And my apologies for the essay, but I'm very proud of this outfit and for what I was able to accomplish in a couple of days (and for not chickening out of the event even though it turned out to not be very solo-attendee-friendly... 😭). Thanks for reading & I hope everyone has a fantastic weekend~~~ 💛🌟✨💫 submitted by /u/johmcy to r/oldhagfashion [link] [comments]

This post was originally made in another forum which has since been made private. After many requests to repost this, I am posting it here in it's entirety. Feel free use this game to meet sugar daddies out in the wild or test if a wealthy man is truly generous, because the ones on SLF/SA contain more salt/splenda than sugar. Setting the bait Ideally you meet this rich man in real life, as you're out living your best rich bitch lifestyle. To that effect: you must always be well groomed and put together when you leave your house. You don't need makeup but at a bare minimum always have your hair and nails done, and maintain your skin. Men notice these things first (hair/nails/face) so be polished, fresh and clean. Outfits should match and be in good condition, and ideally you should wear some subtle but expensive accessories: diamonds or a tasteful watch are never a bad idea. I love running errands in ultra wealthy areas looking casually rich and hot. This gives you instant appeal because it familiarizes you to them and they trust you more if they meet you this way, believing that you're of similar social class to them aka wealthy. If it's online dating: make sure your dating profiles are dialed in, classy, and show you in a variety of high end environments to build the expectation that you live a rich bitch lifestyle. Clearly you have money, and any man who dates you must as well. You're still advertising, however instead of hourly it's with the goal of attracting a rich man who is seeking a traditional relationship wherein the man provides for the woman. This is the programming society has helpfully provided, and this is how smart women can benefit from it by playing on men's expectations of traditional gender roles. It's simple: beautiful woman pleases rich man, rich man provides for beautiful woman. Just like provider/client relationships the key to converting new men to reliable relationships is providing more than sexual stimulation. While they initially are drawn to us physically, providing them with emotional and mental stimulation keeps them around. Initial Dating + Testing I rack up expensive lunch and dinner tabs over a month or two ($150+ average lunch/$250+ average dinner) and use this time to accomplish two goals. The goals are simple: get them to feel emotionally and financially invested long before we ever bang or I ask for anything. My average is like 6-8 dates and they should have spent around $1000+ before intimacy ever happens. A shopping date should occur immediately prior to intimacy but I will get to that later. During the extended dating segment, I use that time to set my unspoken/spoken spoiled GF expectations (I'm rich, expensive, highly maintained and will take them to the pinnacles of ecstasy if only they could catch and keep me!). I always show up looking stunning in designer everything. If they ask, or whenever you get the chance to casually mention your hobbies, be sure you emphasize that you just love being a woman, and being beautiful, so naturally you are very into fashion and beauty. Aka, SHOPPING. It's all confirmation bias: you frequent wealthy areas, your appearance and demeanor are wealthy, your actions, speech and habits confirm that you're an extremely feminine and highly maintained woman. This all sets the tone for those shopping dates, and if a girl is smart and knows how to work the man (every guy is different) at this point it is easy to start asking for designer or jewelry gifts as the relationship progresses. Shopping? SHOPPING! So you've done everything right: you show up to every date looking like an expensive present for them to unwrap. You create a sexually charged atmosphere but keep it classy and keep your clothes on... but they're desperate to see some skin. This man will now enjoy and even look forward to buying you expensive and "sexy" outfits. Now is the time to hit them with the shopping dates. Suggest a lunch date that is adjacent to an expensive shopping area: think Rodeo Drive or the high end Westfield malls where they have the stores you want. Get the guy a little tipsy at lunch, and give him physical contact by putting your hand on his thigh under the table or leaning over and whispering in his ear. Bonus points if you use the whisper to giggle and say how you should maybe get going (he won't want you to leave) and casually bring up how you've been looking at this gorgeous lingerie set (have something sexy pulled up on your phone you want him to get) and you've been meaning to check out these (shoes/dress/something feminine you can try on for him in person) to see if it would look cute with it. Act like you're going to go do that by yourself and at this point he'll almost jump for the chance to accompany you. At this point if you have any game at all you can close the deal by insinuating that should he pay for the item at the mall and order the lingerie, he will be lucky enough to see you in it at your next date. ALWAYS CLOSE THE DEAL AND GET THE ITEMS IN PERSON. Do your homework before this date, confirm with a salesperson the item is in stock in your size and have a few upsell items in mind if he seems like he'll keep spending. If there is an actual lingerie store then you're set, otherwise you can have him ship the lingerie to himself if you don't trust him knowing your address - he can bring it to you at a coffee date in the near future. Important: the key is to reward men promptly and memorably whenever they buy you what you want. Be enthusiastic and exuberant with your thanks, smile super big and be almost childish with your joy. These men literally feed on our happiness. They're soul suckers and it's precious mana to them. Give them the dopamine hit by being SUPER excited, maybe a small kiss and some PDA immediately after the item is purchased. Then be sure you come through and blow their fucking mind with intimacy while wearing those items they purchased immediately after your next dinner date. It trains them like Pavlov's dog: the cash register rings and they get a treat. Simple! I've literally trained men to get hard when they give me shoes, bags, jewelry by creating this idea that I am an expensive fun hobby for them to upgrade and accessorize for their enjoyment (like a car or whatever expensive hobby they currently waste money on). This is the only manner in which I date "off the clock": men will either provide me with shopping, expensive services from their field of work for free, and/or eventually transition to covering all of my expenses. Every man is a resource. Use them. Never appear desperate for money. If you need cash research basic investment items that you can immediately resell on Tradesy, the RealReal etc. You can always find an excellent replica handbag for $200~ and he'll never know the difference. Boom, instant $5000+ profit if you resell a Chanel bag. Off the top of my head, Chanel, Cartier, Rolex and classic staple items from Louis Vuitton and Louboutin all immediately resell for same or more if you hold on to them (certain Chanel bags and some Cartier/Rolex). As always, the goal for every man I encounter is ultimately to transition him to covering all of my expenses. This method is a great litmus test for vanilla men, because a man who is generous enough to take you shopping is a man who can afford to provide an allowance and has demonstrated his ability/intent to provide for you. Remember, this process is for converting a vanilla man from the wild into a sugar daddy. You have to ease them into it... submitted by /u/maincoursdelegance to r/SugarBABYonlyforum [link] [comments]

` First | Previous | Next Discord Alien-Nation Chapter 122: Capitol Capital D.C. was strange, to say the least. We’d been taking a meandering route toward the Mall, and I’d been expecting to see signs of panic and fear in the streets, as if all of Earth were collectively bracing itself for yet another invasion and war over ‘ownership’ of the planet. That, or baited breath as people waited to see if these newcomers would help us overthrow the Shil’. Instead, the boulevards were largely empty. No one seemed to be in any great hurry, or under any real tension whatsoever. “Wait for the light,” my escort- no, my babysitter grumbled. He rolled his shoulders while checking our surroundings. It was rather pointless, the broad sidewalks were empty, and the streets were hardly bursting with traffic. I stepped back from the curb and took a running start toward a nearby lamppost, bounding up it to get a better view down the broad boulevards around the National Mall. The ornate pole’s decorative cast-iron features allowing my fingers to find easy purchase. “Ay- kid! Get down from there before you get yourself hurt!” I ignored him, and allowed myself a small moment of childish glee in defiance of my minder. Grabbing one of the ornate arms of the lamppost, I forced my grin down and swung myself out and around by it- and almost fell as a floating drone the size of a soccer ball buzzed right past my head. I glanced up and saw a few more patrolling the area about a dozen feet higher in the air, just over the tops of the trees. I looked over my shoulder to see the first one swoop down toward the street and come to a sharp halt just short of hitting the ground, focusing on a piece of windblown trash in a way that reminded me of Bear focusing on birds in the backyard. A squared maw unfolded from the front while a pair of small arms like windshield wipers tried to pull the loose piece of cardboard into itself, the thin flaps comprising its ‘mouth’ compressing the trash down until it had completely consumed it. The machine scanned the small patch of city road in more detail for just a moment before swooping back high above the street and continuing along. Bizarre, I thought to myself, glancing around. A flying automated street sweeper and trash compactor. My escort waited with his arms crossed. “Real cute kid, you gonna be in the fuckin’ circus or somethin’?” “Why, is your boss hiring?” I laughed, letting go of my perch and sliding down the pole to the ground. He didn’t respond. I’d been yearning for levity since being dropped off in the hotel room, and certainly didn’t find any on TV with what the Shil’ were trying to pawn off on us as ‘comedies.’ I’d even been tempted to jerk my parents’ chain with a text, ‘Hey, you guys won’t believe this but the Shil’ insisted we buy escorts. Am I old enough for that?’ The only issue being, I might be home already by the time they even noticed the text. The crosswalk signal flashed green, and my clean-shaven guard quirked an eyebrow at me from behind his sunglasses. I stepped off the curb, and a moment later we crossed paths with the first other pedestrian I’d seen. A woman, mid-twenties, professionally dressed and slim, with a document case under one arm was coming our way. The woman didn’t pay me a second glance- though she was definitely looking at my minder, pausing in the middle of the street and tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, eyes locked on his face. Maybe I’d matured into noticing women and where their attentions went, or maybe she was just particularly expressive with hers. She swallowed as we got close, and as we were about to pass, she altered her course sharply, seemingly intent on colliding with the bodyguard. Instead, he neatly sidestepped around her, the office woman bracing for an impact that never came. After a moment of confusion, she spun around on one of her heels, then reached out to put a hand on his arm, a forced smile on her face. “Oh, sorry! Since the Shil’ had these roads repaved, crossing the street in heels has been a nightmare.” He didn’t immediately respond, and she continued. “My name’s Melissa, I’m a-” “Lady I’m tryin’ to cross the street here, get the hell out of the road.” He said, yanking his arm out of the woman’s grasp and ushering me across the street. “Huh,” I muttered as we stepped up the curb. “What was that about?” “What- Oh, the woman? Well uh, competition’s stiff these days. But you know all about that, right kid? The boss cutting me checks every two weeks is what keeps me here, but it’s the benefits that keep me happy. Y’know, the ‘side perks’ of bein’ paid to hang around Shil’ all day in their private suites? Hell, this one purp’ bodyguar-” “-Side perks?” I asked, almost stumbling a step. “Wait- ‘perks’ from the women you guard? Then, what was she trying to do just then?” I glanced back at the road, and there the woman still was, clutching the document case in her hand so hard it was starting to contort. My escort turned his head so quickly his sunglasses almost slid off his nose “What? Oh hell, we ain’t doin’ this.” “‘This’?” I felt even more certain in my unspoken assumption of what those perks were, even though he hadn’t answered my question at all. “I’m not your dad, kid. I don’t know what kinda’ fucked up situation you got where you’re coat-tailin’ on some Shil’ noble family, but don’t know shit about women-” he cut himself off, and took in a long breath. “Nah, nah, you’re doin’ alright for yourself, you obviously ain’t bein’ mistreated, that’s all I know, and all I wanna know. Playin’ at ‘dad’ ain’t part of my job.” “I didn’t ask you to be my dad.” I turned away, and saw the tip of the Washington Monument just over the top of a tree down the street- and took off toward it at a light jog, trying both to work out the frustration I felt, and feeling like I should make him sweat in his stupid slacks and actually work a bit for his pay. “Hey- Hey! What are you doin’, come back here!” I hear him call out, and then start running after me. We made it a block and a half before I finally came around the corner and out into the National Mall, the Washington Monument towering ahead to my left in all its glory, thankfully unmolested. I only took a brief moment to study it, slowing so my ‘shadow’ could catch up. Glancing around, I was moderately cheered that I didn’t see any construction equipment around the Lincoln Memorial that would indicate the Shil’ wanting to give ol’ Abe some plastic surgery, and as I turned, I could see my bodyguard a half-dozen yards behind me, plainly unhappy about having to try and keep pace with someone half his age. I somehow doubted that my warden had been a big fan of track in highschool. To my right I could see an entire squad of Shil’ exercising in the sunny patch of dirt that was the JFK Hockey Field, wearing athletic gear instead of armor. I wasn’t sure they were marines or some kind of sports club- but it was the final bit of evidence I needed to conclude that whatever emergency response they’d had over the invaders was over as abruptly as it had begun. I kept jogging as they formed up and started walking off the field, and felt a small pang of relief as they turned to head down the mall toward the potomac river rather than following us past the Washington Monument. I gazed out into the distance, taking in the nation’s capital. The boulevard had always been oddly underdeveloped to my eyes; a patchy grass rectangle with gravel walkways on either side. Now everything was quiet, and the loose gravel hardpack had been replaced with pale granite pavestones, with moss growing between them like an old roman road. The iron chain fencing along the asphalt street had also been torn out, giving it all a much more ‘open’ feel, and without the constant trodding the grass wasn’t nearly as patchy as I remembered. I wasn’t sure who had done the paving- the Shil’? Or had it been a project from before the invasion? It had a decidedly human feel to it– and one I was quite thankful for. But there was no doubt in my mind who had hung the purple banners between the columns of the capitol building in the distance. I pushed down my frustration at the sight and felt compelled to look anywhere else. The sounds of expensive leather-soled shoes pounding the pavement followed soon after by heavy breathing told me my chaperone had decided to sprint the last little bit of distance between us. I slowed down just a bit and turned back to look at him, the Washington Monument towering just behind us. I knew I couldn’t keep the smile from my face, so I didn’t even try. “You know, at the time this was opened, it was the tallest building in the world.” “That’s- nice, kid.” he spat off to the side, in the grass, then sucked in another breath. “Where’d you learn that, a snapple bottlecap?” I laughed and turned back to face the path. “It’s actually still the tallest building in D.C., since nothing else in the city is allowed to be as tall as the Capitol Building.” “You- got a future as a tour guide, kid. Now how- about you guide me to a friggin’ bench?” I came to a stop in front of the ‘Smithsonian Castle’, a red sandstone building I always thought was incongruously named. It was visually impressive in a sense, but it looked more like an English university building mixed with a cathedral than any sort of castle. But, I imagined the styling might fascinate Natalie. I waited for my bodyguard to finally stagger up to where I was politely waiting, a few rivulets of sweat running down his forehead, and I was pretty sure he was stewing from more than just the heat. Serves him right. He stood there next to me despite there being a shaded bench just a few steps away, keeping his eyes on me as if preparing for me to jog off without him again. Smart. I looked over the building, trying to figure out the best possible angle, when a large banner hanging down from a nearby lamppost caught my eye. It gave me pause, my jaw clenching as I read it. Not a single mention of any human exhibits inside. See the true scale of the Shil’vati Imperium at the new 3D “True Depth” IMAX! This particular Smithsonian museum had never held much of interest to me- the most visually striking exterior held the lamest interior. Thankfully, there were many more Smithsonian museums on the grounds than just this small one- and while the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum had been my absolute favorite as a kid, I suppose technologically speaking it didn’t hold a candle to what we’d just come back from. Then again, castles, swords, bows and arrows, that was all about as medieval as it got- primeval by Shil’ standards, but Natalie was endlessly fascinated with that time period on Earth. Maybe she would like it after all. I pulled out my omni-pad and held it out to my grumpy chaperone. “Hold this for me.” “Kid, I told you, I’m a bodyguard, not-” “Fine, then don’t,” I muttered, tapping on the settings and instructing it to ‘float’. He stared at it, and I could see the surprise on his face despite the sunglasses. He silently mouthed ‘what in the goddamn’ as I stepped back from the device, his tongue nervously flicking the toothpick back and forth as it levitated. I cleared my throat and put on a smile for the camera. “Hello! This is my new best friend, uh,” I turned my head, “what’s your name again?” He grumbled something back and frowned, but I refused to let it affect my cheer - aping his grumbly answer at the camera’s eye-stalks with a smirk. “‘Hrmm’ here, and we’re at the Smithsonian- don’t worry Natalie, I didn’t go far, still in Washington D.C., see?” I stepped around my ‘best friend’ who for his part actually did manage to give a smile and wave to the camera as it panned over him, the omni-pad following me as I walked, and hopefully getting a good shot of the Washington Monument over my shoulder. “This is the National Mall, it’s kinda like.. the public space of our capitol, I guess. Where we can walk around, see our history, war memorials, monuments to significant events or people, you know, stuff we really think of as being important. It’s big- too big to really see all of it in a single day’s walk.” I kept myself from musing aloud that with Shil’ stamina, it would probably take them significantly longer. “There’s several museums up and down the Mall- and I know you love castles, so I thought I’d show you this one first. It’s built in what we call ‘Gothic style,’ which is a term referring to the Goths from ancient Rome- not the cute brooding girls who wear all black. There’s a statue of a famous scientist out front, Joseph Henry. He’s wearing robes, something kinda like the toga I wanted to wear during the award ceremony,” I laughed. “I don’t know what the spectators' reactions to it would have been, but I’d have had a good time I’m sure.” I waved a hand toward the building behind me and started reciting what I remembered about it, and about Washington D.C.- that “The Castle” wasn’t really a castle, per se, but more something built like a cathedral, and that D.C. had been mostly swampland only about a century ago, and that while nearby Philadelphia had a much more important role in the nation’s founding, Washington D.C. was chosen on deliberately unimportant land as a midpoint shared between Maryland and Virginia, so as to not create a powerhouse that belonged to any one state. After a few more minutes of reciting interesting factoids I remembered from the history books in our home library, I gave a signoff and pulled the omni-pad from the air, staring at the interesting glowing pattern for a moment, and wondering just what Natalie was up to right now. “Damn kid, you really are a tour guide,” he laughed, bringing me out of my thoughts. “If this noble intrigue shit ever leaves you high and dry, you at least got this as a backup.” “Well, Natalie’s busy, she probably won’t get a chance to see this stuff in person.” I answered. I’d allotted myself a day or two to look around- and I had plans for what to show her if she ever got a few free hours to come walking with me. “Yeah, I heard who it’s for. Didn’t figure you were that Elias.” “That Elias?” I asked, stopping in my tracks. Just how well-known was I? Who else might notice, or connect the dots? The hotel staff? The man at the front desk? Random passersby on the street? I glanced around as inconspicuously as I could, but there was almost no one in sight, let alone anyone paying any real attention to me. I breathed in, and slowly let it out. I had been enjoying the relative anonymity within Delaware, and hadn’t really had to plan for traveling outside of that media blackout. As Elias, at least. “Yeah, guess I might be, depending on which Elias you think that is,” I tried, seeing if that would get him to expand on how he knew me. He spent a moment reading my expression and just laughed, so I turned and set off across the grass lawn. “Aw come on kid, these shoes ain’t cheap!” He’d mentioned a bodyguard, and if it was Morsh, I was pretty sure I knew what she had to say about me, given that I had barely seen her since our fight at the Brandywine river’s canal near Wilmington. You peel back the muscle on someone’s forearm, they’re liable to not think highly of you. Then again, she’d come to bat for me twice- helping me with the kitchen, and then later with Mrs. Rakten. Though that hadn’t really been for your sake. Or had it? Before I knew it, I was in front of the Natural History Museum, almost like my own feet had dragged me there. “You’re sure you want to go there?” My ‘escort’ asked. “I hear there’s a bouncy castle a few blocks over, might be more your speed. Maybe work off a little of that energy.” I glanced around. What exactly did he think we were doing? We’d gone the blocks to the mall- did he think I was going to just keep on milling about aimlessly? Gee, no, mister, I’m gonna go take a walk through the Capitol Building, maybe find a complaint box to drop a note in. Really give them a piece of my mind. I giggled at my own silliness before remembering what Verns and I had spoken about just that morning- Then again, give me a few years and I just might. D.C. had always been somewhat odd to me. Our nation’s capital, in the ‘greatest’ and ‘richest’ country in the world, had always had a permanent layer of literal discarded trash and hurried, half-assed repairs. Tar chasing cracks in decades-old asphalt, steam vents covered by traffic cones which had been left in place for so many years they’d grown mushrooms. Homeless camps within blocks of monuments and drifters wandering around aimlessly, occasionally getting energetic enough to yell at whoever was near enough, or, sometimes, yelling at the empty air and throwing wild swings into it. Bright neon wilderness survival tents dotting the urban landscape, needles crunching underfoot- and yet, also, the halls of power, men and women in tailored suits being chauffeured around in limousines. All of that was gone, and in its place was the Washington D.C. we’d always been promised by promotional films and tourism boards. It was clean, it was orderly, and I hadn’t seen a single public disturbance the entire time, but it was also sterile. It was sans some of the qualities that gave it charm, it was lacking soul. No vibrantly colored open-topped double-decker tour buses, no foreign visitors admiring the great monuments and trying to get a glimpse of America’s hidden soul, and certainly no crowds of enthusiastic citizens with their jaws open and cameras tightly gripped in their hands. “I don’t know,” I finally admitted. He sighed in displeasure at my lack of conviction. I was wasting time. “I won’t know until I’m in,” I clarified- even though that didn’t seem to really make my minder any more patient. It had been something of a surprise to me to learn that there had been more museums in America than Starbucks and McDonald’s combined- maybe it was due to the corporations’ onetime near-ubiquity in our culture, something which they paid untold millions to bring about. I doubted George Washington or other historical figures had corporate marketing teams that pumped billions into advertising to remind people that they existed. A natural consequence of every museum trying to sell themselves as delivering a unique experience or facet of our history was that very few of them would pool their resources or expand beyond their original scale, even though altogether they could be said to weave a tapestry of our cultural roots, perhaps one of the most important types of institutions a society could have. This fact screamed to me that American non-corporate culture was still there- it was just…understated. And of all the museums that existed on earth, few were the equal of the Smithsonian’s Natural History Museum, and given the day’s chaos, I had it pretty much to myself. I idly wondered if I’d end up in an exhibit somewhere one day as something other than a visitor. I suppose it was inevitable that I’d have at least some footnote in Shil’ history, regardless of our success. I could see myself as a figurine, like something out of the wax museum, complete with my scowling mask and a detonator in my hand. Unless things went south for us here soon, it would probably be my new mask. I’d probably be depicted as fairly tall- Radio had always used clever camera angles to make me seem larger than life on the screen. Maybe they’d strap a welded together mock-up of one of our railguns across my back. My mask and outfit had changed as much as I had in the last year, from DIY’ing worn out hand-me-downs and a voice modulator glued onto a second hand plastic paintball mask, to an actual custom tailored mask and outfit designed to intimidate. Larry’s knife would probably feature prominently, too. Maybe they’d have a still-frame from one of our strikes for a placard. Museums tended to stick to fact- what happened, even if the how wasn’t completely clear. In those cases, they’d leave it up to the staff to theorize or embellish. They’d probably assume that shooting down the ship full of nobles and taking them captive was actually deliberate on my part. Had all such subjects of museums been so lucky in their pursuits as I’d been? I knew what happened when their luck ran out- Wild Bill and a drifter, Jim Bowie at the Alamo, Billy the Kidd. But even for those who hadn’t, what became of those influential figures of the past? Some had done well, it was true, capitalizing on their accomplishments, knowledge, and experience to build small fortunes. For most, it was a living. Back in the day rodeos and circuses included living legends who would sit and talk to members of the audience in their old age. Quite a fall from grace, kept there like a caged zoo animal, fed brandy and peanuts to live out their ‘golden years’ in a wagon or boxcar until they expired gracelessly and their bodies were buried in whatever pauper’s grave was nearest the camp. I fought down a shudder at the idea of being captured, and the Shil’ forcing me into costume and parading me around. No, no, we would either win, or I’d die. I just had to hope that whatever museum exhibits might crop up in the wake of what was coming would at least represent the insurgency and myself faithfully. I broke out the omni-pad again and started setting it up, noticing how the strange eyestalk cameras grew a little plumper in the museum’s dimmer interior light. “Hey, so now we’re inside the Smithsonian’s Natural History Museum, it’s just across from the one I was showing you earlier. This museum has what I personally find to be some of the most fascinating exhibits, probably some of the best examples in the world, featuring Humanity’s origins and our technological milestones throughout early history- sure, they’re super basic, but they were no less important and foundational to our development as a species and a people. I think it’s really wonderful we can look so far back, and…” I suddenly felt like I was digressing. “Maybe it’s just because your society is more technologically advanced, but now that I’m here, I feel a little like… it’s kinda embarrassing to go over the basic hand-tools exhibits. But hey, we all started somewhere, yeah?” I laughed nervously, then shut the camera off and let out a breath. “Probably’d help if you had a script, huh kid?” My bodyguard said. I ignored that as best I could, and started taking still images and yet more 3D video of the exhibits, this time with better commentary, the jitters having worn off somewhere around the point we found a diorama of a group of prehistoric hunters working together to down a saber tooth tiger. It was hard to feel embarrassed about your prehistoric ancestors if they could stare that thing down. Besides, if they could do that, then I could give a steady-voiced recap of the exhibits. I took a moment to take in everything about where I was, thinking of how Natalie found novelty in even the most plain parts of human life. The floor was still waxed, and I didn’t spot anything alien or interesting. As I went around the exhibits, I explained everything to my chaperone just as much as I was to Natalie through the camera, seeing if I could spark his interest. “You know, that diorama from earlier really didn’t do them justice, Sloths were once like, 10 feet tall. They were terrifying creatures, and dangerous, with giant claws and the speed to actually put them to use. People hear ‘sloths’ and they imagine some slow, dopey little tree climbing thing barely intelligent enough to keep itself from starving, bu-” “That’s reeaaaallll nice, kid,” he said, which I could translate as: please stop boring me. He didn’t even take off his sunglasses, so I stopped the recording and hit ‘send’, catching the omni-pad out of the air. I’d hoped being here would make me feel something more… positive, but instead visiting the monuments and exhibits felt a bit like I was visiting a prisoner I cared deeply for: I had no control over their well-being, and couldn’t take them home with me to protect them from whatever harm was probably coming their way. But I was relieved to note they were still here, at least for now. No one had draped shirts over the cavemen figurines’ bare chests. I glanced back at my bodyguard, who made a display of yawning. I was tempted- so sorely tempted to just give him the slip. I’d often wondered why Presidents didn’t just do the same, try and break free of their carefully managed photo-ops to get a bite at a local burger joint, or just take a stroll in the park. Maybe take the opportunity to shake hands, get an earful from the people. Follow the Princeps model, and ditch the Praetorian-like Secret Service. Then again, I couldn’t exactly imagine our current ‘Surrenderer-in-Chief,’ as Verns had called him, having the initiative, or the physical fitness to manage that. Besides, I knew it’d offend Mrs.Rakten- she paid for him after all. And what would I gain from it? Putting the screws to one of the smallest, bottom-of-the-totem-pole effects of the occupation? But then again, maybe it the message would get back to Amilita, or whoever else, that I clearly do not like having a minder, or a ‘shadow’ following my every move, and that putting one on me would just lead to wasted resources and my growing ire. I was weighing the idea of bolting down the corridor and losing him around the corner while pretending to stare at the neanderthals carrying spears, when he tapped my shoulder. “Hey, kid.” I jumped. “A-ahh…?” He was in service to the aliens, sure, but they hadn’t given him mind reading powers or anything, right? I looked into his eyes, sitting just over the top of his sunglasses at the moment. No, and besides, ‘mind reading’? That would be stupid. I looked back at the neanderthals and sighed, contemplating how despite being very intelligent, they ultimately lost. I couldn’t help but imagine that my caveman of a bodyguard could just get a tan and grow out his hair, and fit right into one of these exhibits. “Kid. Pay attention.” His voice was low, a tone that was all-business for the first time since I’d met him, and I realized he was looking past me. I turned, and for the first time since we’d entered the museum, I saw a group of people who weren’t just members of staff, or fiberglass mannequins dressed in furs. Maybe it was true what they said- that New Yorkers never went up to the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building; that locals were never tourists. With the closed border, and virtually no one traveling except for business, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to me that the first other visitors we’d run into would be a gaggle of Shil’. Even in the low light I could make out two adolescents, and what I could only presume was their mother. They were obviously smaller, but even their behavior set them apart, standing forward from her, further from the exhibits and closer to us. The woman maintained a detached interest, but they were staring. Another idle fact popped into my head, one much more important than I’d previously realized- I was the only teenage male I’d seen out in public all day. Scarcity breeds value, and interest, and I could hear the two girls whispering to each other over the hiss of the air conditioning. ‘he’s’ … ‘planet, seriously!’ … ‘chest’ ‘cute enough’ … ‘boys’ … ‘basically free’ “Girls.” Their mother’s single word rebuke instantly had both straightening slightly, but it didn’t stop their staring. “Take my hand, kid. Follow close, like you’re my son.” “I thought you said you weren’t playing dad.” “Shut up.” For the first time in my life, I did as I was asked, and didn’t protest as he pulled me along in his wake as we advanced toward them. I felt like I was back in kindergarten again, playing ‘practice crossing the street,’ and it was eerie how they turned to watch me pass them with their whole bodies. One of them finally coughed up a loose “Hey,” and their hand not moving off their hip as they splayed the hand in an approximation of a wave. I almost greeted them back when I felt my hired bodyguard tug me almost off my feet. The message was clear- do not acknowledge, do not respond and my words died in my throat- they kept staring at me, and the human tendency to stare back kept me focused right back on them- even as it became impossible to without walking backward. At the last moment before I turned my head, I realized their gaze was wandering down a little, and some kind of instinct had me tailing closer to my bodyguard, who only let go of my hand once we were out of the museum’s exhibit section and standing in the gift shop. I pulled my hand free and stayed still. He drew out a fresh toothpick, observing me carefully. I stared behind us, at where the girls had been, my free hand traveling down to my belt, feeling for a hilt that wasn’t there. “Hey.” My guard said, evenly. I turned around and he put one of his large hands on my shoulder. “Bein’ scared ain’t gonna’ help you at all, kid. You just need to be careful. Don’t do any more of that runnin’ away shit. A couple kids disappeared over the last few weeks and I think you’re smart enough to figure out they didn’t just ‘join the circus,’ yeah?” I went over what he just told me in my mind, and there was a long moment of silence, but I don’t think he cared. “What… do you think happens? To the- boys I mean.” “Idunno’ kid, whoever takes’m needs some help playing mario kart or somethin’ - What do you think is gonna happen to’m?” I’d thought, or hoped, that it had ended with Ministriva. Or that turning Myrrah loose would bring about the end of smuggling human boys. The rent-a-bodyguard didn’t blanch at the scowl on my face, the way most people did, nor did he offer any additional details. “Kids disappearing? Here?” “Just what I hear around town,” he said slowly, voice even in tempo and low in pitch. Right. In other words, he wasn’t going to tell me anything- unless… “What kinds of kids?” “Boys. Ones who talk too much and run away from their bodyguards when they’re told not to.” “Ha, ha.” I said. “Really, though, a cautionary tale? I suppose you’re going to say those two are planning on taking me to their gingerbread house and throwing me in the oven and bake me into a pie.” “Those two?” my bodyguard leaned back and looked over my shoulder, peering his eyes over his sunglasses and deliberately sending a frown their way, before looking back at me. “Na, they don’t look like the baking type, but pie ain’t the only thing that’s warm kid, trust me about that. ” He laughed to himself, and then continued. “Probably harmless, but ‘probably’ ain’t the same as ‘definitely’, and somebody’s been carryin’ off kids your age, even though I doubt it’s some old pervert with a van, it’s definitely not two girls and a mom frothing over talking to a human boy, not these days, not anymore.” “So…I really do have something to worry about, here, but...that wasn’t it? Even if it was, I could have handled myself.” I actually wasn’t sure. Last time when that noble girl from House Fel’ya had me cornered, I needed to wait to be rescued. And now I’d slapped leather and come up empty, almost powerless but for the intervention of others for the second time this week. I desperately wished I had a better way to defend myself. “Maybe you could’ve,” he said- pushing his sunglasses all the way back, obscuring his eyes. “But that’s what you got me for. Those other kids? The ones who went missing? No bodyguards. Shame. You? Well, you’re lucky the Raktens got the cash and paid up for the premium room, ‘cause services like mine ain’t cheap.” We began walking toward the gift shop’s exit, when something about what he’d said bothered me. “So, why’d you pull me along like that, then? If there wasn’t any problem.” “Hey, if you wanna go make friends, be my guest kid. Tell’m if they each give me 50 credits I’ll go take a smoke break.” He shoved me back a little toward the exhibit’s exit, where the two girls were now standing and watching, and laughed at how I dug my heels in. “Not sure that girly a’yours would like it though. Or hell, maybe she would, knowing Shil’.” I knew Shil’. I knew Natalie would hate it. I knew I’d hate it. Their eyes were back on me now, hungry, and the bodyguard’s shove had indicated something toward them. I was thinking up something barbed to throw back at him when a series of charms sounded from his suit. He pulled out a small omni-pad, not as elegant or new-looking as mine, but still a very expensive piece of hardware by Earth standards. “Keep your head up for a couple seconds, would ya?” He was reading whatever the device said. Tapping a button and putting it to his ear, he drawled out a long “Yeeellow?” and I took the time to glance back at the Shil’ girls. One of them jumped as she saw me looking, and the other looked torn between keeping her eyes on me, and looking anywhere else. My escort continued his one-sided dialogue.“Yes. Sure, we’re already out. Hey, it’s your money. Okay.” The older Shil’ woman stepped behind the girls and slapped both lightly on the back, speaking in strangely accented High Shil’ to them both, “If you don’t cast your net you won’t haul in any catch. Come on, who’s first? What did I pay for those English lessons for if you’re not going to use them?” I could feel myself getting set on edge, even though I knew I wouldn’t be in any danger. Both of the teens were taller than Natalie, and looked at least as strong, but I bet they’d never gotten socked in the face before. Expensive clothing, wealthy civilians- and if they’re in D.C., I could only imagine their mother was part of the government. I could probably outrun them, I coul- I felt a large hand land on my shoulder and start pulling me off in another direction, it was all I could do not to let out a gasp. “Alright, come on kid, time to go. You can stare at all the purple girls you want later. We’ve gotta hit the road.” One of the girls started waving at me with a very exaggerated motion. I turned my head from her as she called out in the same strange, thick accent her mother had, “Hi! My name’s Kalimera, what’s-” and then we were out. My ‘chaperone’ walked us both out the main doors, then put a hand on my back and kept me moving even when I tried to stop and fish out my omni-pad. “Hey, wait a second, I wanted to get more shots of the exterior.” “Nope, we’re out of here kid, straight back to the hotel.” He said brusquely, looking around the pillars of the building before quickly walking down the stairs and signaling for me to follow. “What? But we still have several museums to go to- The American History museum is right there.” “Yes, and that was the hotel concierge on the line, the Raktens are inviting you to dinner tonight, you gotta get ready ‘basically now. So let’s get going.” “Oh, that’s…good,” I said, not sure if it really was good. Well, plus side, you get to see Natalie. I wasn’t exactly dressed up, though- Oh. Oh no. “Okay, fine, but tell them in no uncertain terms that I am not wearing whatever weird outfit-” First | Previous | Next Discord submitted by /u/SSBSubjugation to r/HFY [link] [comments]

[Poster] ; [First Part] ; [Previous Part] ; [Next Part] The stories: [We Need a Deathworlder!] ; [A job for a deahtworlder] A/N: Hey everybody. This is a crossover story between the stories We Need a Deathworlder! and A job for a deathworlder, written in collaboration with u/Demonicking101. It is meant to be a what if story and not canon to either of the stories. However we had a lot of fun with exploring this possibility and hope you enjoy the story! The story will be uploaded in parts, broken up between both of our accounts. You will soon find the next part of the story here. ​ Part 3 ​ “Look I think we have a sauropsida with two broken arms out there who probably thinks differently than you do about that whole “not caring about us” thing.” James butted in. He really wasn’t sure about this entire situation, but what he was sure of is that the people currently in this room at least were over killing each other, and splitting up right now would mean worse chances for all of them, so he decided not to be shaken so easily. “How… convenient of you…” Simone dismissed as she righted herself back up. “Who the fuck are you anyway?” “We are the ones not currently dragging you guys into our shit, how about you?” Shida hissed, challenging, stepping back up towards the strange woman. Behind her, a loud, exasperated sound pierced the air. “Shida, please, you are not helping this situation,” Moar groaned, shaking out her long fur in disapproval, before turning her attention to the woman apparently called Simone. “We three are members of the crew of the G.E.S.-32. My name is Moar, this is Shida and our human companion is called James. We recently became stranded here and are looking for a way back.” “Way to give the game away, Moar”, James thought. Although he wasn’t against introductions in principle, they just didn’t need to be this thorough. Simone purposely turned her back away from this ‘Shida’ to address the big fur ball with horns. “Ah, that wasn’t so hard. Appreciate it!” Simmone glanced over at the Terran amused “Human huh… alright… Well, I’m Simone Thatch. Chief of Security for the Kwip-Chap, this is Chak-” she waved over the Cali to introduce herself. “It’s a pleasure, I’m the ship’s custodian.” Chak addressed promptly. James took one look over at Shida, and her eyes immediately told him that she was thinking the same thing he was. This reeked of bullshit, ten miles against the wind. But, since it seemed to be a bad idea to start another fight right away, he played along for the moment. “James Aldwin,” he introduced himself properly, extending his hand towards Simone. Simone eyed the hand, then tailed up it to the garb the man and pussycat were wearing. Rather than accept the hand she crossed her arms. “Nice getups. What outfit are you in? Doesn’t look Terran, or Galactic Central for that matter. Private organisation?” she asked, narrowing her emerald sight on his dark eyes. James held the suspicious look of the woman and returned a bemused one while pulling his hand back. “Terran?” he asked amusedly, finally not holding back on that annoying detail anymore. “Who the hell calls Earth Terra? And this is a uniform issued by the Galactic Community to all researchers on their ships, but that is something you can’t know since apparently, the Galactic Community I know doesn’t exist around here.” As if that would clarify anything, he also pointed to the symbol clearly identifying him as a member of a research team. Of course this would mean nothing to Simone. “Who the fuck still calls our kind humans? That’s like calling a colony brat like me French. Earth is still called Earth… it’s just a dead rock now remember? And… no… the ‘Galactic Community’ doesn’t exist as far as I’m aware.” Simone explained warily of this man’s wellness of mind. “There is a small charity organisation with that name! Is that what you mean?” Chak offered in hopes to bridge the gap. James and Shida exchanged a look, first with each other, then with Simone. The look they gave Simone had a clear message, ‘We know you won’t believe that,’ it said, but still, they slowly started talking. “Yeah, that’s right, tiny,” Shida said, stepping over to Chak and patting her on the back. “Exactly, but we don’t usually operate in this sector,” James said, waving off the tensions that were clearly still in the air. So, Earth was dead in this galaxy. That was something he would have to digest later. Now was not the time for that. Moar got into motion, as if she wanted to say something about their blatant lie, but a venomous look from Shida shut the old woman up. “Right…” Simone uttered, indeed not buying it. But seeing as asking too many questions was just inviting questions she held off for now. “Whatever you say. Now, sorry for the rude greeting, but I should really get this lil’ lady back to the ship so we can bug out.” James focussed in on the small woman. Although she currently seemed rather preoccupied by Shida’s hand resting on her shoulder, something about her aura wasn’t right. Of course she was about as much of a custodian as he was a charity worker, but there had to be more to that then met the eye. “Say, I don’t mean to pry, but how come these guys are after you, anyway?” he asked carefully, while pulling the strange gun he had taken from this Chak earlier off his back, holding it by the hilt and dangling it above the ground as to not make it seem like a threat. Simone placed a hand on her holstered weapon, clearly in show. Then reached out a hand for the rifle. “They're looking to take something that isn’t theirs…” she said in a serious tone. James casually ignored the threatening gesture and handed over the rifle. This was like trying to talk to a magic eight-ball, only getting vague and unhelpful replies. To his surprise, it was Moar who spoke up next. Somehow, the clumsy giant had managed to walk over towards Chak and Shida without him noticing. Had the staredown between humans been this intense? “Say, if you two have a ship around, you might be able to help us,” Moar said, bowing down deep to the level of Chak. James quickly reacted before Simone could, waving it off and saying, “I think they have their hands full, Moar…” Chak gazed up at the humble titan before her. “Oh, if you needed transport to a… um… less chaotic station or planet I’m sure we can oblige! Right Simone?” Neither Simone nor James needed to say anything. They both knew exactly what the other was thinking without uttering a single word. However, the rest of their respective groups seemed to not have that luxury.James felt he could only hurt his position by speaking up now, so he kept his mouth closed and decided to let the little red creature play devil’s advocate for him. The female Terran bit her cheek, really wishing her companion had not offered. Other than the obvious tension, adding two maybe three unknown deathworlders in a confined space to worry about did not sound appealing. “I’m not… they can just…” Simone attempted to argue, but rolled her eyes in a sigh. “It’s your call Chak.” she grants. The Cali bounced in appreciation. “If you need it, we’d be happy to have you aboard!” she chirps up at Moar. Appreciative, Moar shook her head up and down in a large nod, making her fur flail about wildly. “Thank you very much, Miss Chak,” she said. Chak apparently wanted to reply, however she was stopped by a long-fingered hand placing itself on top of her mouth. The Cali seemed to freeze, glancing up at Shida, who had closed her eyes, with her ears moving erratically, scanning the air for sounds. Simone made an aggressive step towards her, apparently ready to tear her off of Chak if she had to, but James quickly stopped her, intendly indicating for her for to for goodness’ sake be quiet with a finger placed on his lips, making intense eye contact with her, hopefully showing how serious he was. Simone gritted her teeth, and slowly upholstered her plasma colt to prepare for wherever this was leading. She remained quiet, and can hear very faint buzzing at the forward warehouse doors. “What do you hear?” she whispered to the feline. Instead of answering out loud, Shida began to sign, causing James to quickly start and translate for Simone. “Many in the front, it is too cluttered to count. Less in the back, but they are trying to find a way in. There is also something big there. Some of them are weary because they don’t know how many “terrans” are in here,” he summarized what Shida told him. Simone nodded, not questioning it. She looked back and tilted her head over to the back. “There’s usually evacuation stairs in the back data storage rooms. It probably won’t set off any alarms. It should lead to an alley crossway. From there we can get to the streets.” She informed slowly making her way in that direction. “Grandma should probably go on through first, it’d be a shame to use her as a rear shield.” James nodded, turning towards Moar. “As soon as you see an opportunity, you get out of here without looking back,” he ordered her, his tone allowing for no argument. “No offense but when things go down, you’d mostly get in the way and I want neither you nor us to get hurt.” Moar seemed mortified, but listened to James intendly and nodded her head. It felt bad having to take that tone with her, but it was for the best. Then James turned to Simone. “What about Chak. No offense but it doesn’t seem like she is particularly useful in a fight, either,” he asked, his voice serious. He stared Simone down, his hand gliding onto the hilt of the sword fastened to his belt loop. Simone eyed the blade unimpressed. Regardless she looked over Shida and under-hand tossed the pulse rifle to her. “Here Pussycat. Keep it on the max setting, I’m assuming you know how to point and pull a trigger.” She said before looking back to James “The lady sticks with me unless I have no other choice.” Shida quickly familiarized herself with the odd form of the gun. Luckily it was mostly cosmetics that made it seem so weird. Otherwise it seemed to be just a rifle. “Right, the invaluable custodian,” she snippily commented while getting a good hold of the weapon. “It’s your call. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” James replied to Simone, following her towards the back of the large room, deciding he might as well unsheeth the blade now. The dark metal seemed to merge with the dark space of the barely lit room as it glided through the air. “Alright Moar, you are up. We’ll make sure nothing nasty is waiting right outside the door. Then you have to get out. We’ll meet back up once the situation is handled,” he said, looking at her with an excusatory expression. “I will hold you to that,” Moar expressed, sadness and trepidation in her voice. James nodded, and as the others slowly began to catch up to the two of them, he leaned closer to Simone. He whispered, “Listen, whatever is going on with that girl, it’d better be worth it.” “She’s worth it to me, and that’s enough. Besides, do you want a ride off this hellhole or not?” Simone responded in a half-whisper. Behind, Chak’s ears perk up at this. She would be more thrilled to hear such words if it wasn’t for the pressing situation. James chuckled softly, a smile forming on his face. “Knew you were a big softie,” he said, steadying himself for the surely unpleasant situation ahead of them. “Then let’s get your girl out of here in one piece.” “Whatever floats your boat, Egghead.” Simone replied as she stormed down the steps. The stairs went down two whole levels before finally ending at an exit doorway. Moar goes through and takes a sharp right. Simone holds a hand up. “So we’re separating from Grandma? Can she handle herself alone?” she asks James as she has already started to head left. “She can’t,” James immediately gave back, looking after his giant friend worriedly. “That is exactly why we have to seperate. She is too big of a target. And with your dear custodian with us, the chance of being fired at rise exponentially. Hopefully they’ll just leave her alone, keeping their eyes on the prize.” Saying that he indicated towards Chak, who was currently huddled between him and Shida. “She’ll be fine. Moar may be harmless as a houseplant, but these guys don’t know that. I know the type. They won’t take on someone the size of a house if they don’t have to,” Shida commented from the rear, as she scanned the surroundings with a leveled barrel of her gun. James nodded, although he still couldn’t shake his worries. “Take the lead, Chief,” he said to Simone, driving away the haziness in his head. “Right. Knowing these are local gangs banding together they will no doubt have lookouts and sentries around any exits we could take. Eyes up, we’ll start heading towards the docks two levels down.” Simone explained as she peaked around the Alley corner into the street. Catching sight of no immediate trouble she motions the others to follow as she takes to the street. Briskly jogging across she continues past store fronts and housing units. As they made distance Shida, who was pulling the rear guard, noticed that red-branded armed creatures began pouring out of the alley from which they escaped. “We got incoming!” she yelled forwards. “Take cover!” Pulling the trigger as fast as it would allow her, she started laying suppressing fire onto their pursuers causing the group to burst apart, while awkwardly trying to steer the surprised Chak into a safe corner using her legs and tail. James thought fast and bolted towards the Cali, grabbing her and pulling her out of danger, at least for the moment. “Fuck.” Simone turned to the closest door, finding it locked she aimed her weapon and fired a green blast melting through the door’s opening mechanism. With a shove of her shoulder it gives way. Inside is a rundown food market that thankfully hasn’t been utilized in some time. “We can cross through here! Go!” Simone ordered as she began to fire into the swarm of pursuers alongside Shida. James, unthinkingly scooping Chak up in his arms for the second time today now, took point, bursting into the room while the women tried to hold back the tidal wave of foes. However, apparently the group wasn’t quite as unpredictable as they thought they were, as one of the raptor-looking, feathered things was waiting for them, guns ready. What they didn’t expect however, was that James was trained more than once in aim-dodging. Basically throwing the Cali to the side, he burst his body into the opposite direction. Once his feet found ground again, he catapulted himself in the direction of the attacker, bringing them down before they could take aim again. The thin body gave almost no resistance to the razor sharp edge, as the head noticed a second too late that it had been separated from its body, when it hit the floor with at wet *thud\.* Chak crawled to her hooves watching the swift brutality play out. Covering her mouth as orange fluids burst from the body and began to pool. “What kind of training do they offer in your charity organisation…” she murmured, doing her best to keep her own bile down. James bent down, picking up the gun that their attacker now wouldn’t need anymore. “I used to be in the military before joining,” he clarified. He was in disbelief that Chak still bought that lie. “Now stand back and call in the others, I have to make sure our way out is cleared.” He raised the gun, sheathing his sword for the moment, while slowly stalking towards the exit Simone had picked out for them. Chak nodded, but before she could call out Simone and Shida both entered through the door taking cover on each respective side. Continuously fighting in their retreat. “Damn Pussycat, you're damn scary when you wanna be.” Simone teases with a wink before spotting Chak and the fallen combatant. “Looks like Egghead ain’t no slouch either. Good.” Shida smacked her lips dismissively, keeping her eyes focussed on the battle. Simone slams the broken door shut and looks around for any sort of large heavy object to use as a barricade. Her eyes landed on a wheeled counter. “Hold the door, be back.” The Terran dismisses as she dashed for the counter. Quickly she wheels it over then as Shida steps out of the way, flipped it with a measured grunt. On it’s side they pushed it up against the door. “Alright, let’s go.” She said making sure Chak was right in front of her. Chak eyed back at Shida, mind stuck on how Simone just looked at her with a… flirtatious glimmer. It sure was a good thing that their enemies seemed to understand nothing of actual combat, James thought, looking at their way out. It was basically a death corridor, high walls on both sites with no chance to pose any threat to anything on top of them. Luckily, the only attackers that had been on the roof seemed to be lookouts, who had stuck their head out over the edge for a second too long, losing it in the process.. The rest of the gang had hauled up behind cover within the alley, making it a lot easier to actually hit them, every time they tried to peek out to take aim. Behind him he could hear commotion, as he really hoped the footsteps that neared him now belonged to who he thought they belonged to. The trio run up keeping weapons drawn. Simone gave a nod to James as a ‘good work’ and rotated Chak behind her moving forward. “We bought us some time back there but not much. It’s lookin’ like their aiming to box us in. No matter which way we go there’s going to be resistance. I say we keep pushing forward and hope we can break out.” she notified. “Great Idea,” Shida mocked with a hiss. “And what do we do about the people currently shooting at us, Miss Security?” As if on cue, a shot from one of the dino’s ripped out a piece of wall right above James’ head, forcing him to pull it back into cover. “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that one either, Chief,” he commented, brushing off pieces of debris he had gotten showered in out of his hair. Shida made a few pot-shots in the general direction of their foes. “I mean, maybe we could make it with a lot of luck if we ran at full capacity, but we still have cargo to watch out for,” Shida said with a sideways glance at Chak, who was currently cowering behind Simone, apparently trying to make it seem like she wasn’t even there. “I can take a hit, maybe two. Chak, get on my back. I’ll run ya though while the others cover us. We’ll be the target those assholes are looking for, so it’ll make for a good distraction for easy pickings.” Simone planned, eyeing the other two for agreement. Chak already got ready to heed Simone’s orders, when she was pulled back by her hood. Shida brought the Cali behind her, while reaching forward with her other hand and flicking against Simone’s head. “And who is going to scrape your bulky ass off the walls then, because I won’t!” she reprimanded agitatedly, keeping a tight grip on Chak, who struggled to get out of her hold. “If you charge straight at them even those guys won’t miss every shot.” James nodded in agreement. “No offense Simone, I am sure it took a lot of work to get your body into the shape it is in now,” he started off conciliatory, before getting into the problem of the situation. “But you aren’t exactly what I would describe as agile or graceful. I know we are fast in this gravity, but I think this is something you can’t tackle head on.” At first pissed at Shida for forcefully taking away Chak, the flick to the head earnestly caught her off guard. Reddening in the face Simone looked away back to where they came from. “Well the only alterternative is to bunker down and hope they don’t have as many armed bodies as I think they do. These are glorified thugs, not soldiers. Take out enough of them and they will scatter and run.” Simone reasoned. There was a distant loud erupting crash as something hefty bashed at the barricade. Simone bit her cheek to the point of blood, not liking the sound of that. “James, any ideas in that big brain of yours?” Shida asked, looking back at the horrid sound. James was indeed bruising his brain. Bunkering down would have been way too risky anyway, but now the option was completely out. Turning towards Simone, who luckily didn’t seem to be taken by the stress, he asked, “How good of a shot are you?” “Ex-Marine, not top of my class but damn good. Why?” she answers honestly disregarding any semblance of discrepancy. James sighed. “I may have an idea, but you are not going to like it. And by that I mean all of you,” he said, flinching as another heavy impact shook the door as well as the counter. The three all turn to look at James confused, but expectantly. Simone began taking stock of the contents in her jacket. “Spit it out.” she said. James nodded and swallowed heavily. “Alright,” he said, looking directly into Simone’s eyes. “We’ll go with your plan, but you won’t be the one doing the running. She is,” he said, indicating towards Shida, who looked at him exasperatedly. “I am?” She asked, looking at him just as taken aback as Simone appeared to be. James nodded once more. “You are the fastest of us, as well as the best at evasion. And with Simone and me presumably being the best shots, we can cover you a lot more effectively. Combining those factors I think that we can force them to keep their heads down long enough for the two of you to make a break for it, while Simone and I fight our way out of here.” Shida shook her head, her hair rustling wildly. “You can’t be serious. That is a terrible plan!” she said aggressively. “Yeah, well it’s the only one we have,” James responded collectedly. “But you’re right, I can’t make this decision alone.” Simone blinked in thought, then with a slight nod she looked down at Chak. “You heard the Egghead. Mount up.” she said in a flat tone. Chak shook her head slightly. “Wh-what? What about you?” she asked as her eyes flash a glowing red. “What about me? This isn’t about me. I’m a stubborn asshole and even I know the guy is right. Besides, getting you out of here will make fighting a whole lot easier. This ain’t my first rodeo.” Shida stepped forward with a deep sigh, getting on her knees before the Cali, allowing her to climb on. “Come on, we don’t have time to argue,” she said through gritted teeth. “Besides, if James thought he wouldn’t make it out, he wouldn’t have suggested it. And if he gets out, so does your bodyguard.” Defeated, Chak gives Simone a sudden hug. “I ran away when you were in danger once already today… just make sure you come back again. Alright?” Chak whispers solemnly. Gently with care as if the Cali were made of paper-thin glass Simone pats her back. “You bet, now get going.” She said carefully separating herself. Chak then with urgency get’s behind Shida. She wrapped her upper arms around the woman’s neck, her lower arms up under Shida’s and hooks her legs just above the waist. She shifts somewhat uncomfortable, but doesn’t protest. “We’ll be fine.” Simone assures before focusing on the feline with the utmost serious expression a veteran Terran can give. “I’ve been through a lot of dirty scraps with her, and I’ve been shot, stabbed, burned -you name it- to make sure she never received a fuckin’ scratch. Make sure she stays that way.” “Heartwarming, really,” Shida replied, righting herself up and getting used to the added weight in her back. “I’ll make sure I won’t get hit, so if she holds on, she’ll be fine.” She carefully went over towards James, just leaving the serious woman standing there. “Alright, me and tiny are out of here,” she said, a lot more softly now. “Make sure to give them hell for me, James.” “You got it,” he said, allowing himself to be off his guard for only a moment, so they could properly say goodbye. Since her arms were holding up Chak, Shida could only rub her forehead against his and as always, she released a soft chuff as she did. James softly repeated the noise back at her, before pulling his head back and getting into position to unleash hell into the corridor. “Everyone get ready,” he ordered, shutting his eyes tightly for a single second, before opening them with renewed determination. Simone rolled her shoulders before pulling out a small switchblade from her jacket so both of her hands were armed. Taking aim across from James she gives everyone a single affirming nod. “Let’s fuckin’ dance.” she uttered under her breath. Shida bounds just before the chaotic shattering of the rear door. Simone takes aim, but eyes open wide seeing the big guy storm in first. “Oh… crab…” she curses, recognizing the species from a single past encounter. A tank of a crustacean bulldozing forward like a runaway train locks it’s sights upon the group. Six legs, four sharp pincer wielding arms, and there they were… without any tartar sauce. “That one’s bad news, they got thick-ass plates. Try to get underneath them, unless you happen to be carrying some explosives?” Simone infomed James as she fired a plasma bolt at the creature, causing superficial damage. “Simone, I need you to focus!” James shouted, covering one of the hides their attackers had hauled up in with multiple shots, keeping them from taking aim. Despite Shida hauling ass like a cheetah, she and Chak still weren’t out of the hot zone, and he really could not have her focus on their rear right now, even if Satan himself would have tried to sneak up on them. Knowing he was right, Simone turned her back to the incoming death and rapidly took shots down range. Her bolts melted through armor, feathers and scales with ease, leaving blackened craters. “Shit, shit, shit.” she cursed at the sound grew louder from behind. But to James’s credit, Simone followed suit in keeping her focus forward. submitted by /u/Lanzen_Jars to r/HFY [link] [comments]

In case, you guys/gals missed the first story it can be found here: https://redd.it/94dez6 To summarize though, essentially our very small and tight knit buoy tender got sent an 18 year old goober from inner city NY. Hilarity ensues. Some of you guys wanted some clarification on some acronyms or jargon that may be Coast Guard or specific to our type of mission so I'll do my best to clarify here and answer any comments as well. BM: Boatswain's mate (drive boats, work lines, and painting) MK: Machinery Technician (hit shit with hammers. read: concussive maintenance) OINC: Officer-in-Charge. If an enlisted guy is in charge of a unit, this is what we call them instead of CO. SN: Seaman (E2/E3 nonrated personnel) The first story will be the requested "SN Darwinism attends Easter dinner in a rodeo outfit". This occurs roughly 6 months after Darwinism has reported aboard. He is still almost as useless as he was in his first week but at least he's learned which way to put his belt on (he seriously struggled with this for the first 2 months) and has made minor improvements. Very minor improvements. One area that he has not improved on however, is his social awareness. So every year and through various crews, our ship has always held an optional Easter Dinner for the crew (minus the watch-stander) and their families. You weren't voluntold to go, you didn't NEED to contribute food, you didn't have to pay, and it was always free of religious undertones. Just a nice dinner and couple hours to hang out with each other's families where we could eat great food, drink some wine, let the kids run around, and just shoot the breeze without any work topics coming up. Rank didn't matter, everyone used each other's first names, and it was always really fun. The guys who lived on base would always take back a huge plate of leftovers for the poor watch-stander to eat as well. The only caveat to this was that the attire was semi-formal and while we wouldn't stop you from attending, it was considered a huge dick move to show up in jeans and a t-shirt while we serve you free food and wine. No one had any problems following this request until SN Darwinism. Now the problem was that SN Darwinism had never held a job before now. I also suspect his parents hid him away from society until they could dump him off at the recruiter's office on his 18th birthday because he had zero formal attire to speak of. If you read my last story, you also may remember that he arrived with NO civilian clothes at all. So his entire wardrobe consisted of classics from Walmart's fall collection of cargo shorts and plain white T-shirts. My friend and I are fishing down by the base pier when Darwinism runs up to us in panic after realizing his lack of clothes selection. 6 months later, this idiot still had no car nor intention of ever buying one so it came to my friend and I to rock-paper-scissors to see who would drive him into the city to pick out some clothes. I won and savored every second of my friend's scowling and broken face as Darwinism shouted "Shotgun!" and ran to my buddy's car. It was just the two of them going... I laugh, fish some more, and take a nap before dinner. Fast forward to dinner, and the crew and their families are starting to trickle in and everyone is hanging around the dining room drinking wine, eating cheese, and softly talking among ourselves. Then it happens. The door creaks open and a heavy "THUD" echoes through the halls of my chief's house. Silence falls across the gathering. I turn my head around the corner and there Darwinism is in all his glory. This......mistake of a human being is standing on my chief's beautiful polished hardwood floors wearing his pair of work boots completely covered in buoy crust and mud from work, a pair of Levi jeans, the Coast Guard issued uniform belt, a black with white trimmed Jack Daniel's emblazoned rodeo shirt, Edge sunglasses (our eye pro at work), and the most ridiculous, humongous, black felt cowboy hat perched atop his empty noggin. My mouth was stuck agape twisted in some sort of purgatory between horror and amusement. This kid had freely admitted to us a few days prior that he had never seen a horse in-person before. Now he's standing in the doorway practically cosplaying as The Rawhide Kid. My MK1 had attended a university in Kentucky prior to enlisting, studied "beef science", and had ridden for the college's rodeo team at the time. He was never without a jaw full of dip and was every part as close to being a real American Cowboy as you could get these days. He was absolutely livid and began to tear into this kid while I stood by and enjoyed the scenery. MK1's interrogation eventually brought forth the truth. My friend had dropped Darwinism off along a clothing store outlet, telling Darwinism to "text him when he was finished", and had shamelessly driven off to the park downtown to flirt with girls from the local college. An hour later my friend gets the text, picks Darwinism and his purchase up, and return to base. Now my friend fucked up in assuming that Darwinism was able to pick out an entire outfit. The kid took 2 months to learn how to use a belt, and is also the same kid who asked earlier that day "What's the country that's like just North of South Korea?". My friend didn't verify what Darwinism bought, dropped him off at base, and went about his day. After hearing this tale, my MK1 immediately gathered the entire crew and demanded we all take a unit photo to forever "cherish" this memory. After said photo, for the remainder of the dinner we send him off to eat at the children's table since he insisted on playing dress-up. BONUS STORY Quick little story for you guys about Darwinism and the Pee-Pee Potty Emergency. He has had various troubles with using the bathroom before but those stories I'll save for another time. So one day, we get word that a Rear Admiral UH (2-star) will be visiting our unit and small boat station that we share a base with that afternoon. Everyone freaks the fuck out (we have no officers billeted within 50 miles of us) because "hurr officers" and we field day fucking everything, gather in formation with the most junior guys up front, and await our glorious leader's arrival. Admiral arrives, walks around with the OINC's to look at shit with his entourage, and we stand there in formation trying not to fall asleep. Admiral then addresses us all on what changes are occurring in our beloved Coast Guard. I mostly zone him out because I really don't give a fuck that we are now authorized to wear both black AND blue watchcaps in the winter instead of just black. I'm just staring off into space when suddenly I see a hand shoot up near the very front. "Wait a second, I know that pasty-ass arm. UH FUCK NO". The admiral hadn't asked if there are any questions yet, and Darwinism was just straight interjecting mid-speech. I hear my BM2 (and Darwinism's direct boss) whisper "Stupid motherfucker" and it takes all my restraint not to laugh. Darwinism: Hi Sir. (He seriously fucking said "Hi Sir". Bitch you what?) Admiral: Um, yes good afternoon SN......Darwinism. What can I help answer for you? Our entire crew at this point is wincing while the gathered crew from the small boat station are all staring at this kid incredulously. Darwinism: Yes sir. (again, what the fuck?) Can I use the bathroom? (Yes, he called it a bathroom and not a head as well) Que 50 grown men and women in formation behind him sputter, turn red, and practically faint from laughing. Even the admiral breaks up a little. Darwinism didn't get why we were laughing. Next story I have planned is "Darwinism gets into a staring contest with the sun and loses". I don't want to flood the sub so I'll probably post a story every 2-3 days. Let me know what you guys think and what kind of changes you'd like going forward. Grammar edits submitted by /u/S-S-Stumbles to r/MilitaryStories [link] [comments]